#Charles Leclerc X teenage daughter!reader

[astars-things]

“i know you are lying” with Charles Leclerc x teenage daughter!reader. maybe the reader gets caught underage drinking or something and it leads to a big fight.

Charles Leclerc X teenage daughter!reader

I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the clock on the wall as it ticked away the minutes. It was well past midnight, and every sound seemed to echo louder in the silence of the house. My heart raced with each passing moment, knowing that any minute now, my dad would walk through that door. And when he did, he'd find out the truth. The truth I'd been desperately trying to hide.

I took another sip of water, trying to calm my nerves. But the knot in my stomach only tightened with each passing second. I knew I had messed up big time this time. The party had seemed like a good idea at the time, a chance to hang out with friends and forget about the stress of school for a while. But now, as I sat there, waiting for the inevitable confrontation, I realized just how wrong I had been.

The door creaked open, and I tensed, my heart pounding in my chest. My dad stepped into the kitchen, his expression tired and worn from a long day at work. But as soon as his eyes landed on me, they narrowed, and I knew there was no escaping it now.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with suspicion.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, avoiding his gaze. "Just couldn't sleep," I mumbled, hoping he'd buy the lie.

But he didn't. He knew me too well for that.

"I know you're lying," he said, his tone firm.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of guilt pressing down on me. "Dad, I—" I started, but he held up a hand, cutting me off.

"I got a call tonight," he said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "From the police."

My heart dropped into my stomach, and I felt sick. I had hoped against hope that nobody would find out, that I could sweep it under the rug and pretend like it never happened. But now, faced with the reality of my actions, I knew there was no escaping it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?" he asked, his voice softening slightly.

I shook my head, unable to meet his gaze.

"You're underage, y/n," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "You shouldn't have been drinking in the first place."

"I know," I whispered, feeling the weight of my mistake bearing down on me.

He sighed again, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I just don't understand why you felt like you had to lie to me," he said, his voice tinged with hurt.

"I didn't want to disappoint you," I admitted, the tears now streaming freely down my cheeks.

He pulled me into a tight hug, and for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe everything would be okay. But then reality came crashing back down around me, and I knew that this was just the beginning of a long and difficult conversation.

"We'll talk about this more in the morning," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the mess I had made. Maybe, just maybe, we could work through this together. But one thing was for certain: I would never forget the look of disappointment in my dad's eyes when he said those four simple words.

"I know you're lying."

[boiohboii]

A broken house

(Charles leclerc x daughter! Reader)

Masterlist

I just saw remembered this heartbreaking scene from an old theatre play (is that what they're called?), like when colors on tv first became a thing old, and I just had to write it down. WARNING: implications of cheating, abandoning children, Charles is not a good guy at all, a daughter confronting her dad, not proofread, just something quick right before bed

Charles never imagined he would ever be in this situation.

When he first held yn in his arms, his precious, precious daughter, his oldest and the apple of his eyes, he vowed to never hurt her, to never see her cry and to never let her expirence heartbreak, so what was he supposed to do when she's standing right in front of him cheeks flushed, fists by her side and angry tears falling out of her eyes.

He was the reason, he was the reason and he never thought he'd be. And to make it all worse, he doesn't feel sorry. He doesn't know where it all went wrong and he doesn't know when he became so cold-hearted towards the sunshine of his life, his pride and joy. But it's too late now, too late to try and talk, too late to try to explain and too late to even get a speck of the love yn held in her eyes for him. He knew it was too late. It was just too late.

"So what," yn refused to accept her father's silence, she needed to hear him say it, admit to his wrongdoings "you're just gonna leave us?"

"You don't understand," Charles tried to reason, his eyes not even meeting his daughter's identical ones "she needs help."

"THAT'S YOUR REASON!" yn's voice boomed through the empty house, thanking anything and everything that her mother and siblings aren't home yet "that's your reason to abandon us! What about mum huh? what about your wife? The woman WHO SACRIFICED HER YOUTH FOR YOU! TO FOLLOW YOU! TO HELP YOU! And what of my siblings, what are they gonna do? What did they do to deserve this? What did any of us do to deserve this?"

Yn looked at her father, slowly walking towards him, she refused to believe that's the same man who showed her what love is, who carried her on her shoulders to hear her laughter, who promised to sheild her from the world's treachery. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, the man who promised to protect her is the one clawing at her heart and watching it bleed, too much of a coward to even lift his eyes from the floor.

"Please," yn's voice broke as she thought of her home tearing apart, her mother and her baby siblings "please take a moment and think about it, about our family, just for five minutes. Please."

"I'm not going to waste my time."

Yn's breath hitched in her throat, her voice gaining power as her disappointment and anger took over, yet still so quite.

"All four of us don't even deserve five minutes of your time. Are you that impatient to leave with her? Don't worry, I won't hold you back, but I swear to you, I swear on everything that you believe in that you will regret it. There will be a day where you will wish for the time to go back for an hour, a minute or even a second, you will wish you'd have thought this through and really kept in mind who actually loved you before you ruined it all. But even if all the years turn back, we will never forgive you, we will never miss you and we will never think of you as the man you once were. We will never love you again."

Yn doesn't know where it all went wrong, she doesn't know how could 20 years of loving someone, your father, all just go down the drain because of one voice call. She doesn't know what she's supposed to do or what's she supposed to tell her mother, her siblings, her grandparents, but she knew one thing; it was too late to try and talk her father out of it, too late to not let this moment tarnish all the good memories they had together, too late to even leave a bit of her love for her father in her heart. It was just too late.

[formulamar]

she’s a ferrari - part 4

charles leclerc x yn!ferrari reader

fc: Addison Rae

summary: as a child, the great-grand daughter of Enzo Ferrari used to spend her weekends hanging around the paddock. but once she went off to university her appearances became rare. what happens when she starts working for Ferrari? and... one of the drivers steals her heart.

READ PART THREE HERE

DECEMBER 2023

twitter

charlesleclerc16updates

liked by forzararri and 2,372 others

charlesleclerc16updates: CHARLES AND YN RECENTLY!

120 comments

f1fan0: i’m so glad they’re not letting that silly article come between them 🫶

-> scunteriafer: exactly!!!! that article is ridiculous charles would never do something like that

cl16fan: favs 🥹💞

lechairs: was the second pic taken in monaco??

-> charlesleclerc16fan: italy

-> charlnor: OHHHHHHH 🤔

ynferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, fernandoalonso and 112,921 others

ynferrari: galaaaaaa ❤️‍🔥 big thank you to everyone who helped me organize this big event! it was my honor to plan it! had so much fun, see you next year!

8,532 comments

ynscousin: forza familia ❤️

liked by ynferrari

carlossainz55: Gracias for a great party, Yn!

-> ynferrari: thank you for your energy!!! love you carlitos!!!

tifosi1722: UR SO BEAUTIFUL YN

ynferrarifan08: most gorgeous hostesses ever

user: ruining our sport and our team

iamrebeccad: had so much fun 💞

liked by ynferrari

user: so now she’s just getting involved with everything huh...

ynbff: we love planner yn

charles_leclerc: Until next time❤️

liked by ynferrari

-> tifosi1722: SO CONTRACT RESIGNED OR WHAT????

-> charlnor: so there WILL be a next time then???

comments on this post have been limited

twitter

JANUARY 2023

rumorhasitf1

liked by fernandofan97, charlesfan75 and 4,626 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 RUMOR CONFIRMED 🚨

The dream continues for Charles Leclerc in RED.

Leclerc and Ferrari have extended their contract.

430 comments

charlnor: living out his childhood dream 🥹

tifosi028: i’m so happy!!!! the team loves him

princecharles16: further proof he is il pridestinato ❤️❤️❤️❤️

f1fan5: LEGENDARY

charlesfan83: he's staying home :)

ferrarienthusiast38: GRANDEEEEEEE

f1fan33: i seriously can't imagine him anywhere else. life is good.

scuderiaferrari and ynferrari

liked by F1, susie_wolff and 350,892 others

ynferrari: I've had the rare privilege of witnessing the beautiful madness of motorsport right in front of my eyes. I grew up running around on track, moving car sketches from the dinner table, holding the car parts by my fingerprints. A plethora of memories that, sure I adored, but for the longest time was unable to acknowledge the significance of.

It may sound silly but it wasn't until I was a teenager that I began to realize not everyone got to be so close to their favorite sport. When I turned fifteen I got into the habit of walking around the grandstands before the race started and talking with other girls my age. These conversations taught me a lot. At nearly every race, I would hear a variation of "It's my dream to drive an F1 car." After a chorus of "Mine too!" there would be an awkward realization that dream was nearly impossible to accomplish. Women, weren't widely accepted in motorsport. Being a female fan was difficult enough already. Imagine trying to be a driver?

Then, I did start to imagine. Young girls from all around the world dying to experience the adrenaline. Just once. To feel the champagne coat them. Just once. Or even to be able to sit in an F1 car. Just once. A small moment that could change their lives forever.

When Susie reached out to me and shared her aspirations for creating an all-female racing series, I knew it would restore hope in the dreams of young girls all over the world. When she offered me an opportunity to help make this a reality I never considered saying anything but yes. I'm overjoyed to join Prema Racing, F1 Academy and Susie on this journey. I only dream of witnessing other women experience what I have so many times, running on track, peeking at the sketches and touching the car so gently because you're afraid of breaking it. And even more, I hope they cross the finish line with an indescribable feeling pulsing through their bodies. I hope they all hear their anthem on the top step. We can make this happen. Thank you to everyone on this project, thank you Susie, thank you @/f1 and THANK YOU FAMIGLIA FERRARI! (Ferrari family)

147,982 comments

susie_wolff: What a beautiful post, YN. Thank you for believing in the vision.

-> ynferrari: ❤

cl16fan: i'm actually sobbing. i love you so much. thank you for doing this.

-> ynferrari: thank you for supporting it :)

lec4: this is amazing, you're amazing!!!!

lando_norris: ❤

-> lando_norris: btw I'm glad you get to put that degree to use. It looked difficult.

-> ynferrari: oh if you only knew...

ferrarifan62: you described it perfectly.

charlnor: ok did not expect to ball my eyes out first thing in the morning but god this is beautiful.

charles_leclerc: Can't wait to see everything you accomplish ❤️

-> ynferrari: ti amo ❤️

-> lechairs: so after seeing this interaction I started crying again

-> cl16fan: literally me too

lordpercevalfan: i love you girl. you left me speechless. i'm so excited to watch!!!

fernando_alonso: Muy orgulloso ❤ (very proud)

liked by ynferrari

charles_leclerc’s story

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formulaamar🎬: okay please don’t hate me… it’s been forever 😭😭😭 school and work have had me on a leash!!!!!! but here is the FINAL part of she’s a ferrari. i wasn’t originally planning on getting so emotional but i think it makes it special! i’ll try being more active :) REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!!!

taglist 🌷🏷️: @agmoon03 @janeh22 @kindestofkings @ttokkisbee @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @lottalove4evelyn@1800-love-me@blushmimi @emryb @majasophieanna@heavy-vettel @tvdtw4ever @harrysdimple05 @chelle1306

[natailiatulls07]

Hi Ivan you please do teenage reader is Jules bianchi daughter and Charles raised her as he’s her godfather and she’s his pride and joy and grew up basically at the paddock so all the drivers knew her and are like uncles to her and there all wrapped around her finger cause of how sweet she is ( she’s like sunshine ) and can you do them and Charles reaction to her getting her first boyfriend?

Marguerite

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Summary - Charles’ little sister, is now dating but that’s not much of a celebration to her brother and the three other drivers

Warnings - swearing in french, probably horrible french translations lmao, Jules Bianchi's death, funeral

A/n - Charles and Y/n aren’t blood related but consider each other brother and sister

Marguerite

-

2015

Front row in Nice Cathedral sat Y/n Bianchi. She was dressed in a lacy black dress, her hair in curls tied up in a half up half down hairstyle. Beside her was Charles Leclerc, her older brother. He kept glancing over at the nine year old girl.

In front of them sat her fathers coffin surrounded with daisies, his favourite flower. It was also what Jules nicknamed Y/n.

'Marguerite'

She was playing with the lace, this isn't the right place for a nine year old to be. Outside were a plethora of media and press, ready to capture the drivers attending the funeral, Jules' coffin or Y/n Bianchi. There was little to no pity for the young girl on this hard for her from the media or press.

"Charlie?" Y/n's small and unsure voice pulled his attention to her. "Who are all these people?" Pointing to the many people attending the funeral around the cathedral, Y/n made a face of confusion.

Charles was quick to look around the cathedral. "They are here to pay their respect to papa...just like us" He took a deep breath, trying to keep composure for the nine year old. "Papa is a very loved and respected man by many"

Y/n knew of the love and respect her father had, but still couldn't understand that. "But they didn't know him like we do?" It was true, these people don't know Jules like his daughter and godson does.

They didn't know that he was doing formula one for Y/n, they didn't know that he was both terrified and proud of Charles for following in his path. They didn't know this stuff, personal stuff.

The Monégasque loved how observant she was, he loved that she could seperate personal love and platonic love. "That's why you don't need to give them anything today, just focus on loving and saying goodbye to papa..." Nodding her head, Y/n listened to Charles' request.

"Focus on papa..."

-

2023

After Jules' death, Charles' practically adopted his daughter. Only a couple months after the funeral, Y/n moved in with Charles. He became her legal guardian.

Y/n, now seventeen years old, was sat at a lunch table with Alex, Charles' current girlfriend and Rebecca, Carlos' current girlfriend. On any race weekend, she would attach herself mostly to the two girls and looked up to them a lot .

"So babes any more news on that boy, what was his name? Tom?" Alex asked curiously. With Charles being Y/n's legal guardian, Alex would take on the role of big sister and would give anything to talk about the seventeen years olds love life.

"Oh my god yeah! Has it moved any more from the dms?" Rebecca would chime in, she was also a great lover of listening about Y/n's love life.

"Well..." Y/n dragged this bit out, seeing how anticipated the two older women were getting. "We've been on a few dates, Charlie doesn't know though"

Both Alex and Rebecca were quick to gasp, drawing the attention of those around them before snickering slightly. "Oh and when I asked what we were, he said that I'm his and he's mine!"

All three females were grinning at that last piece of information and Alex was about to say something when the two ferrari boys had made their arrival at the table. Both dressed in the racing suits, red head to toe.

"What we talking about ladies?" Charles asked excitedly, giving Alex a quick peck on the lips before checking on his adopted sister who was trying her hardest not to laugh.

"Oh nothing! Just asking Y/n how she's finding college at the moment..." The oldest of the ladies, Rebecca, spoke up and quickly covered up their previous conversation with a lie.

Y/n let out a nervous laugh, glad that Rebecca had managed to cover it all up. "Yeah, it um...great at the moment, love it"

She was about to say something else but Charles was quick and swift to step in and essential boost about the girls success in college. "Better than great! Marguerite is at the top of her class, studying media and communication!"

'Marguerite'

It warmed Y/n's heart to know that Charles had carried on her papas legacy.

"Oh wow! Go on Y/n!" The tall spanard celebrated, clearing proud of her success much like his teammate. "Top of the class! You really are a smart lady, you gonna conquer the world!"

The whole table laughed at Carlos’ enthusiasm to praise the seventeen year olds success in her studies.

-

It was two am in the morning, Charles and Alex were asleep in their room however the teenager was not.

No, she was pulling on her Jordans. Wearing a white and baby pink tracksuit, Y/n grabbed her phone before quickly and quietly rushing to the front door of the apartment.

She was going to hang out at Toms house, yet Charles still didn’t know. Also the Monégasque had a curfew for Y/n, two am was much past that curfew by now.

Y/n went to unlock the apartment door but when she accidentally dropped her keys on the hardwood floors, she panicked. The walls are paper thin.

Of course this meant that she had woken up Charles and Alex. “Fuck!” Y/n quietly cursed herself for ruining her plan.

As she went to pick up the keys, the hallway light flickered on. “Y/n? What are you doing up?” It was Charles. “And dressed?”

“C-Charlie…hi” He gave her a confused expression, clearly not oblivious to her nervousness.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Charles asked again, more firm now.

“I um…nothing” Y/n replied to his question horribly, it was evident that she was lying. He held a intimidating glance over the girl, prompting her to open up and spill. “I was sneaking out! I’m sorry Charlie!” She pleaded.

“Where to? A party?”

“No…um my boyfriends house…” She knew it would come out eventually so it was better to rip off the bandaid and fast.

Silence filled the hallway, Charles looked shocked and unsure of how to react whilst Y/n felt ashamed and anxious.

Another voice filled the air, Alex. “How about we all go to bed, yeah? Talk about this in the morning” She waited for the two to nod, Y/n much quicker than Charles but he did still nod. “Y/n, I suggest you text Tom and tell him you can’t come over”

“Okay…” Charles look even more shocked and angry when he realised that Alex must of known about this the whole time.

-

Waking up the next morning, Y/n could hear distant voices from the kitchen. Getting out of bed and making her way to the kitchen, the voices became more identifiable.

There were four, all with various accents. Monégasque, Spanish, British and finally Dutch. That could mean only four people.

As she walked into the kitchen dining room, it was confirmed to Y/n that she had Charles, Carlos, Lando and Max there, all seemingly waiting for her.

"Morning..." It hadn't seemed to click in her mind as to why they were all there staring at her disapprovingly.

It was only when she realised that Alex was not there and the usual bubbily behaviour the men would have was no where to be seen that the penny dropped. "Oh..."

"You wanna tell the guys whats happened?" The sarcastic tone Charles had set the tone for the rest of the conversation. Plus it was bullshit. The Monégasque would have already told them the whole story, it was evident on their faces.

"Go on Y/n, do tell..." The third time world champion pushed.

Looking down, Y/n had now instantly found her acrylic nalls very interesting. "I was sneaking out...and Charles caught me..." The seventeen year old mumbled.

"Where were you sneaking out to?"

"My boyfriends place..." The girl finally looked up and was met once again with disappointed facial expressions. "I'm sorry, I know you like me dating but he's a really sweet guy..." Y/n tried to reason with them but before anyone else could say anything, there was a knock on the front door.

"I'll get it and you." Charles got up from his seat, pointing to Y/n. "You are still not off the hook." He was quick to make his way to the front door whilst Carlos, Max and Lando spoke to Y/n a little bit more, slightly softer now.

However, their conversation was cut short rather quickly when they heard Charles shout. "You got to be fucking kidding me!"

Turns out Tom had decided to come over, expecting only Y/n to be home. So now he was being dragged into the kitchen dining room by his shirts neck line. "Carlos, Max and Lando meet the boyfriend. Go on introduce yourself."

Tom and Y/n locked eyes, his more panicked and hers more guilty. "Charlie come on, let him go! He hasn't done anything wrong!" The twenty six year old did thankfully listen to her, but dropped the boy to the ground in the process.

“Except violate our Marguerites innocent mind” Lando snapped back, truly believing that Y/n’s mind was completely innocent.

The young boys hands went up in defence, smirking slightly. He knew that Y/n was far from innocent. “Oh don’t smirk!” The Spaniard caught Toms smirk, and was not happy about it.

It was Maxs turn to speak again. “Okay okay, right Y/n and Tom sit down on the couch” He demanded.

Listening to the Dutch man, the two seventeen year olds were quick to sit down on the couch. Toms hand unconsciously moved to rest on Y/n’s thigh but drew back to his own lap when he felt the sharp glare from all four of the drivers.

“You explain yourself” Max pointed toward the female.

“Me and Tom met through a mutual friend, we’ve been on a few dates and I love him” A deep crimson blush covered her cheeks. Giggling softly.

It was hard for the drivers to stay annoyed at Tom, they could see how happy this one boy made her.

Happiness is all Charles ever wanted for Y/n especially after losing her father. Happiness was something the Monégasque always deeply prioritised whilst raising his little sister.

“He makes me happy…Charlie please”

That same deep blush covered Toms cheeks, he was still a young and awkward teen. “Oh I didn’t know that…you love me?”

They were like love sick puppies, anyone could tell even if they were blind or deaf. “Yeah of course I do…”

This stumped Charles, Max, Lando and Carlos. They wanted to be angry at Tom but they simply couldn’t. Why? Because it was obvious how happy and loved Y/n felt with Tom.

“Putain!” Cursed Charles. How is he meant to be angry now? “You know, you are really making it hard for us to be angry at you”

Lando nodded in agreement. “Yeah fuck you for that guys”

A smirk cracked through Y/n’s rosey cheeks, well aware of what was happening. She knew full well that they weren’t annoyed at them anymore.

“So does this mean that you approve?” As soon as Y/n asked the question, Tom became confident once again and moved his hand back to her thigh, caressing it slightly.

All the older men just groaned, knowing that they’d just have to endure with the relationship. It was gonna happen eventually, Charles just wished it didn’t come round so soon. “Yes fine, just keep it pg thirteen around us please”

Nodding excitedly, Y/n happily jumped up from the couch before wrapping her arms around Charles hugging him tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

This made him reminisce on when Y/n was younger, hugging was on of her favourite things to, especially with Jules.

Whilst the brother and sister hugged tightly, Tom with his new found confidence also got up. Shaking the hands of the three other drivers.

“You protect her, you hear me.” Carlos warned. Tom was quick in nodding, not wanting to cause any more bad impressions.

And in those moments where Y/ns relationship with Tom could come free, letting them love each other openly and without fear, both Charles and Y/n could feel Jules’ presence.

They could feel how he was looking down on them, protecting them, loving them and being their guardian angel.

Watching over his dear godson and his Marguerite.

Marguerite

-

[sebscore]

Omg LL idea!!! Him bringing her up on the podium with him in his karting days🤭 He is in like the teenage “inchident” years, and he wins a race that LL attended with the family, and he beckons her over and onto it with him in her cute little summer dress, adorable!!

A DAY AT THE RACES

pairing: leclerc family x leclerc!reader (+ gasly fam cameo)

warnings: toddler tantrum. crying. 

author's note: toddler leclerc is back!! huge shoutout to @champomiel for making me obsessed with a baby little leclerc :))) and also thank you to each person who send in a request regarding baby leclerc!! 

masterlist 

• • • • • • •

''When Charles drives by, you have to yell his name very loudly, okay?'' Pascale told the toddler in Lorenzo's arms, smiling as she saw her daughter respond enthusiastically. 

Her older brother nodded to their mother's words. ''Yeah, you have to scream ''Go Charles!'' so he can hear you.'' He added. 

The young girl nodded to their words, all her attention back on the track in front of them. It was her first time at Charles' karting race- or at least the first time she was consciously experiencing it. 

Y/N was still only a toddler so everything is still quite sensitive to her, like the loud sounds of the kart engines. Pascale had taken several ear-protective gear with her, hoping her youngest wouldn't throw a tantrum like Arthur and Charles used to do at the F1 races when they were her age. 

''There he is!'' Hervé exclaimed, grabbing his family's attention. ''Allez, Charles! Keep going! Come on, Charles!'' The man cheered his son on from behind the fences. 

The young teenagers cruise by in their karts, the place drowned in applause and noises from their family and friends as they pass the crowd. The sudden booming voices caused Y/N to get distracted and glance around her instead of screaming for her brother, who was running in first place. 

The toddler whimpered as she glanced back at the track and saw that all the small cars were gone. ''I missed Charlie.'' She sniffled, which rapidly turned into bawling. 

The Leclerc family's focus turned from Charles' P1 to the youngest's sobbing. ''What's wrong, bébé? Do your ears hurt?'' Pascale's impression was that the combination of the loud cheers and engines were too much for the little one's ears. 

Y/N frantically shook her head, making Lorenzo tighten his hold on her. ''I missed Charlie! I didn't say ''Go Charles'', Maman!'' She whined to her mother, calming Pascale's worries that her daughter wasn't in physical pain. 

''It's okay, it's okay! Don't worry about it, chérie.'' Hervé attempted to comfort her, endeared by the girl's concern for not cheering her older brother on. 

Her father's words didn't seem to have any effect on her and she kept crying her eyes out. She reached for the headphones on her head, trying to get them off her head- too much stimulation around her at the moment. 

''Wow! Be careful, you have to keep those on.'' Lorenzo gently scolded her, with Hervé stopping her and keeping the headphones on her head. 

''No! They're too heavy!'' Y/N continued whining, struggling to take them off. 

Pascale watched on, navigating on what she should do as her daughter carried on with her  adorable yet frustrating temper tantrum. ''Chérie, take her with you to the finish line.'' She instructed her husband, pointing to where the person with the chequered flag was waiting. 

Hervé nodded at her, releasing her from Lorenzo's arms. The small girl continued shedding tears, but nestled in her father's arms. ''We're gonna see Charles, okay?'' He asked her, smiling down at her as he walked away from their family members. 

Y/N timidly shook her head up and down, loudly sniffing her stuffy nose. ''Is Cha gonna be angry at me, Papa?'' 

Her father frowned at her question. ''Why would he be angry with you, bébé?'' 

''Because I didn't yell for him, and Lolo and Maman told me to yell for him when he passed us.'' In her mind, her older brother would be upset that she didn't cheer him on. 

The man chuckled, the innocence of his daughter's explanation warming his heart. ''Charles is not angry with you. He knows you're his biggest supporter! We're gonna wait for him at the finish line so you can be the first one to give him a hug.'' Her father told her. 

His assurance that her brother wasn't cross with her, making her stop crying and let out a small smile on her lips. ''Did he win?'' 

''He is currently in first place and Pierre is right behind him so we'll see when he finishes the race.'' Hervé responded to her, giving the side of her head a kiss. 

The pair arrived at the busy part of the track, somehow making it to the front of the fence so they could watch Charles take the chequered flag. ''Make sure you keep your headphones on, bébé- we don't want your ears to hurt.'' He adjusted the gear on her head. 

''Okay, Papa.'' Y/N politely answered, not having a problem with the headphones anymore. ''When does Charles stop driving?'' She asked him, not seeming to have much patience. 

''A few more laps around the track and he's done.'' They had only brought her to the side of the track towards the end of the race, her parents knowing she would otherwise be sleeping through the whole thing and be upset that she missed it. 

The sounds of the engines became slowly louder and louder, indicating the drivers were passing by again. ''He's coming again, Y/N- make sure to yell for him.'' Her father signalled to her. 

This time, the toddler only held her focus on the track, screaming her brother's name as soon as he came into her sight. Hervé and the people around them laughed at the little girl's small voice, finding it adorable as she was the only one screaming for a few seconds. 

''Go, Charles!'' Y/N and her father chorused, cheering on Charles who was still in first position. She rested her face in his neck, having grown shy by her own yelling. 

A few laps later, her brother was the first one to cross the finish line and win the race, with Pierre coming in second behind him. 

Y/N started fussing in her father's arms, wanting to go to Charles and give him a hug. Hervé chuckled at her excitement, but told her to wait until he got out of his kart, and took off his helmet. Pierre's father, Jean-Jacques, joined them, pinching the little girl's cheeks and giving Hervé a handshake. ''Good race.'' He concluded, giving them a nod. 

''A nice battle between them today.'' Hervé confirmed, satisfied with the results and the performances of the two young boys. 

The toddler tugged on his shirt. ''Papa, can I go to Charles now?'' She whined, not a fan of how long it seemed to be taking. 

The two men chuckled at her impatience. Her father glanced at his son and saw that Charles had already climbed out of his kart, and was in the process of removing the helmet off his head. 

''Charles!'' Hervé called for the young boy, waving his free arm at him. The winner of the day spotted his father and sister, his smile becoming wider at the sight of his family. 

Charles tapped Pierre's arm, pointing to his own father. The two boys made their way over still in full adrenaline from the race and their podium finishes. Once they were close enough, Hervé put his daughter down and gave her a light push towards them. 

Y/N jumped over to her brother, her arms already spread. Charles got the message and took a big extra step, embracing his sister and easily picking her up. ''Cha, I yelled for you! Did you hear me?'' She asked him, her arms firmly around him. 

''Yeah, you were very loud!'' He replied, pretending that he had heard her through all the noise even though he hadn't. 

''You were super fast! You went like zoom~'' The little girl imitated the sound of the karts, making both Charles and Pierre laugh. 

''We are supposed to go zoom~'' The French boy impersonated her. 

''Good job, boys! Nicely done, Charles!'' Hervé praised them as they made their way back to where they had been waiting. The rest of their families had also found them and gathered together. 

Charles put his sister down so he could give everyone a hug of his own. After Pascale embraced her son and gave him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, she motioned for Y/N to come to her. ''You gave your brother a hug?'' She said to her daughter as she lifted the girl up. 

''Yes, I was the first one.'' She proudly told her mother, hugging her neck. 

Pascale grinned, relieved her husband was able to calm the girl down. ''Wow! The first one? That's great, chérie.'' 

A tap on Pascale's leg brought her attention from her daughter to her youngest son. ''Maman, can I have ice-cream now?'' Arthur asked her, a pout present on his face. 

''I want ice-cream too!'' Y/N exclaimed upon hearing her brother's question. 

The woman put her daughter down, next to Arthur. ''We're going to eat with Pierre's family after the boys get their trophies. You can get ice-cream as dessert.'' She explained to them. 

''But I want it now!'' Arthur continued. 

''You're gonna have to wait, Tutur.'' Lorenzo told his little brother, chuckling at his impatience. 

The young man noticed the Gasly family, his father and Charles moving to where the trophy ceremony would take place. He glanced at his little siblings. ''Cha is getting his trophy, come on!'' 

Arthur listened to his older brother's words and grabbed his sister's small hand, guiding her to the podium as they walked next to Pascale and Lorenzo. The mother and son duo swooned at the sight of Arthur acting like an older sibling to the young girl. 

''Why do you walk so slow, Y/N? You have to go faster.'' The boy complained, having to reduce his speed so his sister could catch up. 

Lorenzo chuckled. ''She has small legs, Tutur! Go at her pace.'' He reminded his little brother. 

''That's not my fault.'' Arthur answered, matter-of-factly. He kept walking at his pace, ignoring his sister practically running to stay next to him. 

''Thur!'' Lorenzo stopped him, grabbing his shoulders. The older one then focused on the toddler and picked her up, not wanting her to grow tired from simply walking. ''Alright, let's go.'' 

The podium ceremony wasn't something too extravagant. They called out the names of the top three and handed the winners their trophies, often with some flowers as well. 

As the families waited for the presentations to start, Charles grabbed his dad's attention. ''What is it, Cha?'' He asked his son. 

''Can I bring Y/N with me on the podium?'' 

Charles had done it countless times when Arthur was younger and he had seen many other winners bring their siblings up on the podium with them- he wanted to include his little sister somehow. 

Hervé smiled, touched by his son's sentiment. ''That's okay with me, but ask your mother to be sure.'' He knew Pascale wouldn't have a problem with it, but he didn't want to surprise his wife with Charles suddenly taking their daughter with him. 

Upon hearing his father's answer, Charles walked over to his mother. ''Maman,'' he tapped her waist, having her bow down to be on the same level as him, ''can I bring Y/N with me on the podium? Papa says it's okay.'' 

Pascale glanced at her daughter for a few seconds, checking if she still had energy left. ''Of course, but be careful, okay? She's small.'' She agreed, nodding at Hervé who was looking at them. 

''Thank you.'' Charles thanked her, skipping back to his father. 

The mother of the family approached her oldest and youngest child, gently grabbing his shoulder. ''Ma petite, Cha wants to take you on the podium with him. Isn't that fun?'' 

The youngest's mouth made an o-shape, bewildered by the news. ''Really? Wow!'' 

''Yes! So let's put you down.'' Lorenzo kneeled, letting his little sister stand on her own two feet. As soon as she was stable on the ground, she ran off to Charles. 

''Cha Cha!'' Y/N exclaimed, catching her brother's attention. ''I'm going on podium with you.'' 

''I know! Just follow me, okay? I'll help you.'' He told her, not wanting her to get distracted and do something she shouldn't do. 

''Okay!'' She gave her brother a thumbs up with a bright smile. 

It didn't take long for the various ceremonies to start, but the Leclerc Family had to wait until the end since Charles participated in the oldest age category at the competition. 

''In second place, we have Pierre Gasly of France! Well done, Pierre!'' The presenter said into the microphone, inviting the French boy onto the podium. 

The family clapped for him as he strutted over to the second step, accepting the trophy and flowers he was handed. 

''And our winner of the day is Charles Leclerc of Monaco! Congratulations, Charles!'' 

The race winner grabbed his sister's hand, and unlike Arthur, walked on her pace to the podium so she wouldn't have to run next to him. He momentarily let go of her hand as the presenter handed over his trophy and flowers. Charles gave the trophy to Y/N, being less heavy than the bouquet of flowers. 

Charles stepped onto the top step with ease, meanwhile his baby sister struggled with her small legs to even get onto the third step. 

Pierre immediately noticed. He placed his trophy and flowers on the ground, and signalled to the girl to walk over to him. He picked her up and placed her next to Charles, who thanked his friend for helping his sister out. 

The Monégasque crouched down. ''Y/N, look at Maman.'' Charles pointed at their mother, who had a big smile on her face as she held her camera. Upon seeing Pascale smile, Little Leclerc mirrored her mother's expression- proud of the trophy she was holding, despite it being her brother's. 

The rest of the family watched on fondly, the sight of the small girl swooning everyone. ''She's going to steal that trophy from his room.'' Lorenzo told Hervé, chuckling at the way his baby sibling was holding onto the plastic prize. 

''Charles will let her.'' The patriarch grinned, knowing his son would take the trophy away from her. 

After a few minutes of posing for pictures, the ceremony was done and they made their way back to their families. 

''Pierre, you are a gentleman.'' Pascale complimented the young boy, ruffling his hair. 

He shyly glanced down at the praise. ''No problem.'' Pierre brushed off, his mother pinching his reddened cheek. 

The giddy toddler jumped in Lorenzo's arms, still a strong hold on Charles's trophy. ''Look what Cha gave me, Lolo.'' She showed the prize off to her brother. 

''Wow! You have a trophy? How cool!'' Lorenzo told her, excitedly. 

''Can we get ice-cream now, please?'' Arthur whined, having everyone look at the young boy. There was an adorable, impatient tone to his voice, making both families smile at him. 

The parents all glanced at one another, nodding in silent agreement that they should start packing up, and go have dinner. 

''I'm going to get 5 scoops!'' Arthur declared. 

''I'm going to get 6 then!'' His sister one-upped him, mischief written all over her face. 

''Y/N gets 2. Arthur gets 3, and Charles and Pierre will get to choose since they got a podium together.'' Hervé stated, chuckling at his two youngest's disappointed faces. 

The little girl huffed. ''But Papa, I want 6!'' 

''You're like 6 scoops tall, how are you gonna eat all of that?'' 

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[bellewintersroe]

Charles Leclerc smut x reader - part 1

Little bit different from my normal writing, but I’ve been obsessed with f1 atm and can’t seem to shake the thirst for the drivers 😬 so anyway here’s a Charles smut x Vasseur! Daughter. Don’t know if this will hit the target audience but it’s fine!

this hasn’t been proof read so could be kinda shit.

Jenny never had a good relationship with her father, the current principle of Ferrari. He’s brought her to many of the 2023 Grand Prix races in order to bond, however she seems to have turned her efforts elsewhere when she meets a certain driver who can’t seem to keep his eyes off her. Their relationship is forbidden, hidden make out sessions, late night drives, the two are getting closer and closer until neither of them can handle the tension between one another.

“Looks cold.” I commented, half distracted as the Monegasque struggled to lower himself into the ice-bath. Fuck, he was so sexy. My eyes dropped down to Charles’ bare torso, he was so toned, his tan skin was smooth and I wanted to run my hand down there so bad. His chest rose and fell heavily, fast enough to get my imagination racing.

“Probably because it is!” Charles teased back, letting out several gasps that had me turning away in order to rid the dirty thoughts from my mind. I couldn’t control my mind around Charles, we’d been getting closer for the past two months, out of the four we’d known one another. Secret, friendly drives and late night takeaways turned into heated make out sessions in hotel corridors and, tense, sex fuelled texts from one another’s rooms when our hands were the only tools to satisfy our own cravings. If it wasn’t for my dad, Frederic Vasseur, principle of Ferrari, and therefore Charles’ borderline manager- or whatever you wanted to call him- I was positive I’d have had Charles in the way I wanted several times at this point.

Growing up I’d loved attending races, placing in the cars, I enjoyed being around here, but living in England with my mum strained my relationship with my father, my teenage years having interests elsewhere than race tracks and cars. This year, I’d made the effort to follow my dad around and Ferrari, accepting his invitation and staying with my 3 siblings and step-mum. I was glad I did, not only for the family time, but for the fact I’d met Charles. Wondering off, I didn’t really know where to linger, none of my family were here, so I just kinda stood on my phone inside, revealing a text from Charles before I’d seen him outside. Let’s go for a drive tonight?

Smiling, I was quick to text back in agreement before I scrolled up ever so slightly. Sexts. Fuck, intimate, graphic pictures, I ignored my own and glanced over Charles’s, pulling my phone closer to me so nobody could see. Not that there was anybody about. Pictures of his cock, exposed, hidden beneath his boxers, strained under a towel, wrapped in his hand- I had to quickly flick off the chat to control my breathing. How I needed him, so desperately, I’d yet to see him naked in real, I’d yet to touch him. The video he sent me from the night before plagued my mind, the way his breath trembled as he jerked himself off, how he’d spat into his palm, lubricating himself and, how he’d moaned and gasped my name as he came over his bare torso. My stomach churned with butterflies, my hand scraped through my hair, fidgeting as I let out a quick exhale through my nose. I was officially sex deprived. Turning down to my phone, I started texting Charles again, not knowing if he’d see it or not. I really need you

Much to my surprise, he read the message almost instantly. He must be out of his ice-bath already. Why, are you okay??? I physically face palmed at his message, feeling a slight humiliation covet my face. Maybe if I dirty talked in the small amount of French I knew he’d actually take the hint? I don’t mean it like that hahaha

Oh

Where are you? I see you

Glancing up from my phone, I noticed the shirtless boy walking towards home, glimpsing behind him to see if anybody followed. “You thought I was hurt?” I giggled when he got closer, biting down on my lip as he placed a hand on my lower back. “I am an idiot.” He laughed, his accent thick. “I know.” I hummed out, gazing up to him as his eyes lingered over me.

He moved down, pressing a kiss to the side of my forehead before his other hand ran over the back of my hip. “This way, my love.” He sweetly spoke as I felt that familiar pulsating in my core. Fuck, I needed him, and I needed him now.

I didn’t ask any questions, I just allowed him to lead me down past the gym and into a small changing room. I could feel my breathing grow heavy, the anticipation of being completely and utterly alone being too much as I spun around as soon as the door was shut. “Charles.” I whispered, a little breathy as I slid my hands over his shoulders, simultaneously clashing our lips together. His hands were still holding my hips, the front now, smoothing over my white summer dress that was maybe a little too short.

“I needed you so bad.” I practically whined, pressing our bodies closer together as his fingers tightened over my hips. “Fuck, in here?!” He whispered, the kiss breaking apart for a second as we stared back to one another with the same wild look in our eyes. “Please.” I hushed, bucking my hips a little into his as his eyes fluttered shut, hearing him let out a small breath. “I thought about you all day in this dress.” Charles muttered, pushing my head back into a bruising kiss. “Mmmh.” I hummed, hungrily against his mouth. “What about?” I giggled, desperate to hear more of his dirty words. My hand smoothed down his front, knowing we didn’t have much time and rested over his lower abdomen. Charles gulped harshly, lips grazing over mine.

“You are a dirty girl, wanting to hear about it all, yes?” He let out a breathless laugh as I giggled, nodding and leaving a second lingering kiss on his mouth. When I retracted, he attempted to move closer again, letting out a noise of discontent when I moved away from the kiss he chased. “Oui.” I teased as he smirked. “Oh, tu veux le faire en français?” I vaguely recognised he was asking if I wanted to do this in French. “Mmmh.” I agreed, feeling one of his hands fall down as he smoothed over the curve of my ass.

Charles lowered his head, dipping it into the crook of my neck as I swallowed, letting out a breathy moan at the sensitivity I felt when he trailed his lips over my exposed skin. “Tu veux entendre parler de toutes les choses sales que j'ai pensé de toi?” He hummed as I simultaneously let out a moan at his French tongue, whispering into my ear. I was entirely too distracted to translate what he was saying. “God.” I gasped out, head lolling back, the tension thick between us as he pressed my hips into his. “Don’t run away.” He borderline tutted, attaching our lips again. This time, the kiss was deep and there was no breaking apart, Charles stumbled back, into the wall, stumbling around as he hummed lowly, running his hands over my back, pinching my ass and pulling it desperately into his already hard front. “I wanted to get up this skirt all…” I felt him wince when he couldn’t think of the word. “Day?” I giggled. “Day.” He breathily laughed, kissing me gently. “Since you sent me those pictures.” His hand reached down to the bare of my leg, smoothing over my thigh and up my skirt.

“So, so sexy.” He hummed, fingers grazing over my core, top to bottom, all the way to the top of my pubic mound, over the slit. My hips bucked at the sensitivity, it had been a while since anybody other than myself had touched there. And now Charles was the one running his fingers over me, my pussy ached for him. I didn’t think I could be patient, Charles and I took a second to glance at once another before he now nudged me back into the wall, the kiss becoming heavy and sloppy as he breathed harshly against my lips, pushing his fingers into my thongs as his rough fingertips rubbed over my wetness, sliding easily against my throbbing clit.

“Si humide, putain, j'ai tellement besoin de toi.” He borderline whimpered as my hand wrapped around his clothed cock. He was rock hard, he felt so big against my small hands, and as I rubbed my hand up and down, Charles’ breathing grew heavier. “I need you too.” I choked out, letting a soft gasp escape my lips when his fingers pressed down harder on my sensitivity. “Fuck.” I whimpered out. “Please, I need you to fuck me.” My head fell against his shoulder as he nudged my face up with his. “Are you sure?” “Yeah.” I nodded, surely, his hand creeping out of my underwear, resting on my exposed hip. “Just take me here, please, we can make up for it later.” I squeezed the tip of his cock as he choked out a French curse word. “C’mere.” Charles then quickly ushered, lowering himself down onto the bench as I was quick to follow, watching him pull out his cock. He was just as big in real life compared to the numerous pictures and videos he sent me. I wanted to taste him. Just as I was ready to get on my knees his hand stopped me by the elbows.

“Non, non. You wont do that the first time we sleep together.” He insisted, pulling me on top. “I don’t have much time.” Charles admittied, guiding me to climb on top, knees either side of him. It was the first time we’d been in this position, and I could feel myself growing a little red in the cheeks. I’d been so caught up in my sexual desperation, that I didn’t fully realise how exciting and fun this was to do with Charles.

“Are you sure you want to do it in here?” He paused, running a hand over my cheek, some strands of hair catching between his fingers. “Yeah.” I nodded, smiling a little shyly at the vulnerable moment. “I’m on the pill as well. La pilule.” I translated as he nodded, lifting his head to kiss me more gently now. Charles fingers pushed the shoulder of my sleeve slightly, exposing my skin as he pressed a kiss there before spitting in his hand to lubricate himself and angle himself at my entrance.

I gasped at the slight stretch, sinking down slowly on his cock as he let out a sigh, fidgeting a little at the sensation as he smoothed a hand down my back. Fuck. He felt so good- I felt so full. Just how if needed. “That’s good?” He asked me as I nodded. “Yeah.” I squeaked, moving forwards for another kiss as he began moving me up and down with the thrust of his hips, the small noises he was making causing me to gasp out myself. The angle was intense, immediately hitting a sensitive spot deep inside of me as I struggled to remain quiet.

“Oh my god.” Charles hushed against my ear, pressing a kiss to my neck as I whined, gripping at him tighter, I began moving my hips, bouncing on his cock as I started a rhythm that made his eyes roll back into his head. Fuck, he looked so good, I couldn’t speak, I was struggling to hold back my moans, so if I opened my mouth I’d get us into trouble. “So good.” I sobbed against his neck, hiding my face in there. “Oui.” He agreed, strained as he bucked his hips up again, once, twice, three times, before he started fucking me at a much faster rate. “Fuck, like that, fuck me Charles.” I practically sung as he let out a gasp of a moan, my hips jolting forwards.

“Been waiting for this.” He grunted out, pulling my hips down to grind over him. “For so long.” He groaned, dropping his head back as I whined, grinding myself over him. “Fuck.” I choked out as he lifted his head again, watching me with an open mouth. He tensed his jaw, one hand on my shoulder, the other gripping my ass as he began fucking into me. “Tu le veux plus fort?” I moaned out in response, “yes, yes.” I choked, overwhelmed by the pleasure as he continued fucking up into me.

“Needed you for so long, Charles.” I whimpered, forehead resting against his own as he continued bucking up into me, beginning to sweat as he huffed at my words. Now we’d been so deep into our intense love making, I felt all the confidence to begin babbling. “Fuck, I needed you to fuck me like this, watching you touch yourself over me.” Charles let out a much louder groan at my words now, one of his hands slamming on the longer besides us for support. “I can’t.. I can’t, I’m going to cum if you keep talking like that.” Charles paused, breathing heavily as I gasped out from the loss of movement. Instead, I began bouncing my hips up and down, hands resting on his bare torso. “That’s what I want.” I admitted as his eyes squeezed tightly shut for a moment, gripping my flesh harshly. “Baby, baby, baby.” He hushed, pulling my front closer to his. “I want you to cum first. Tu jouis en premier.” He whispered, inhaling sharply with another snap of my hips.

“I’ll finish too fast.” He settled a hand on my hips, freezing my actions as he smiled a little shyly. “Charles?! Charles?!” A man’s voice began echoing as I turned over my shoulder. Charles let out a frustrated sigh, dropping his shoulder against mine. The door was locked. “Yo, Charles you in there?” The man asked as I made direct eye contact with the boy still inside me. No, I needed him, fuck, I didn’t want this to end.

“Can’t I get two minutes alone with you?” Charles muttered, head leaning on my chest now. His hips gyrated the slightest against mine as I let out a quiet sigh, trailing my hands over his shoulders. “Yeah! Just on the phone!” Charles exclaimed. “Oh! Okay, sorry! You’re needed outside, bro!” Charles winced as I went to slide off him, he shook his head, wanting me to stay there, but I dropped to my knees causing him to sit up straighter, stunned by my actions. I smirked up to him, licking a stripe along the bottom of his cock as his jaw dropped.

“I-I’ll be 10 minutes!” He choked out, holding eye contact with him for as long as I could before I sunk my lips down over his erection. I’d wanted to feel him in my mouth for so long.

“Okay, bro, sorry for interrupting!” The man called out again, I think his name was Marcus. “Merde.” Charles muttered maybe a little too loud as I hollowed my cheeks, sucking a little faster now. His hand hovered over the back of my head, resting it there lightly as I felt his whole body tense. My lips ran over his veiny tip, the taste of myself and his precum filled my mouth, edging me on.

“What?” The guy called out again. “Nothing!” Charles exclaimed, miming out a soft, “oh my god.” Biting down on his hand, I glanced up to him before going down as far as possible. He jumped and hunched forwards. He was going to cum, I could feel it, I wanted it.

“Ah, alright man, see you in 10.” The footsteps slowly got quieter as Charles finally sighed out.

“Si bon, Jenny tu es si bon pour moi.” I knew that was him telling me how good I was, fuck, I needed to hear more of his praises as I bobbed my head up and down. His soft breaths soon became heavy and shaky, as he struggled to keep his composure and keep quiet. “Je vais jouir.” He warned, “merde! Baby!” He held his breath, tapping desperately on my cheek, but I didn’t pull off as his whole body seized and began shaking. I moaned against his twitching cock, pulling off just as he spurted his cum everywhere, the breath he was holding coming out as one loud groan, the desperation soon replaced with content as I smoothed my hands over his wet cock. Charles’s hand landed on top of mine as he caressed my fingers that stroked over his dick. That was too good… making him cum for me with my mouth, I’d never done that before.

“Oh, baby!” He moaned out, exhaling and sitting up straighter as he pulled me up, kissing me several times. “You didn’t have to do that.” He breathed, still coming down from his high as I smiled, kissing his cheek. “I wanted to. Plus, you were in a rush.”

“Fuck, you are so good. I owe you big time.” He shook his head, glancing down to the mess we’d both made. “No you don’t.” I swiped my fingers under my lip, cleaning myself up as my pussy still throbbed, I was in pain with the amount of sexual frustration I had. “I do.” Charles nodded firmly, “I want to properly fuck you. For as long as you want.” He shook his head, his words making me groan playfully as he giggled. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Don’t make yourself cum until I can. Tonight.” Charles grabbed my wrist once more as I bit down on my lip. “If I can wait that long.” I eyed him up and down as he slowly eased himself onto his feet. We shared a few sweet kisses before he apologised profusely that he had to leave. I was fine with it, kinda satisfied from the fact we’d finally got to- pretty much fuck. Now all I had to do was wait until tonight without touching myself. Kinda difficult when I’d been worked up to the edge of orgasm by one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure if I could wait that long ….

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {6}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: For once things run smoother than planned as you introduce Charles and Lando to your mother. Warnings: 18+ only, light angst, fluff WC: 2.2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

The tiny village of Wickford had been your sanctuary since you first moved there at ten years old. Your mother had thought the sleepy little town would be good for you after the news of your parentage became public knowledge and the place you loved most was suddenly suffocating. She thought some time away from the karting world would be best.

Arriving back in the town that never seemed to change eased the ache in your chest that had been there since Max opened his mouth. It wasn’t gone completely and you weren’t sure it ever would. Of all the things he could have said, he knew that would hurt the most because you loved your mum above all else. She was your biggest supporter even if she couldn’t come to the races.

The Range Rover Lando had hired after landing in Southend should have been inconspicuous but when the majority of the town drove a Vauxhall it caught the attention of the teenagers lingering on High Street. You only hoped the windows were tinted enough to keep your arrival private for a little longer - but it was only a matter of time before word got out. It always did.

The drive had been quiet as you sat in the back seat with Charles, resting your head on his shoulder after the tears had run dry. The only time you spoke was to give directions to the small two bedroom bungalow on the quiet cul de sac that had remained your home at heart even after moving to Monaco. 

No amount of money offered could get your mother to move, you had tried. You had offered to buy her sprawling estates that had names instead of street numbers, you had offered her luxury apartments, you would have offered the world - but she was happy in the home she had worked hard to buy, and had worked harder to keep over your head when times were tough.  

“It’s cute,” Lando said with a smile as he pulled into the driveway. 

The agapanthus plants that lined the garden were budding with big heads of flowers and it was overgrowing onto the driveway, brushing the sides of the SUV. Trimming the plants was always your chore as a teenager during summer break and you hated it, complaining the entire time about how unfair life was. It didn’t seem so bad now.

The weathered front door opened before the car even came to a stop and you felt lighter the moment you saw your mum step out, a welcoming smile on her face. The engine had barely turned off and you were out of the car, expertly dodging the pavers that never sat level and into her open arms. 

Flour dusted her clothes, a damp tea towel hanging on her shoulder and the mouthwatering smell of fresh baking clung to her as you hugged her tight.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked as she pulled back and held you at an arm's length to see your face. “You haven’t hugged me that hard since you moved out.”

Her eyes darted to Lando and Charles as they climbed out of the car and you could see the question in her eyes. “Not them,” you said as you shook your head. “I hope it’s alright if they stay with me? We can get a hotel if not.”

“Nonsense, we can make space,” she reassured you with a squeeze before you felt a hand on the small of your back. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Don’t let her fool you, she knows exactly who you are and probably all your stats too,” you said over your shoulder. 

“I’m allowed to keep an eye on your competition, honey.”

“I’m Charles, and it’s lovely to finally meet you,” he said as he offered his hand.

“Please, any friend of my daughter gets a hug. You too, Lando,” she laughed as she opened her arms for them. “You must be special, she never brings anyone to meet me,” she whispered loudly.

“Mum…”

“What? It’s true. The last person you brought here was Max. Oh, speaking of, he called wanting to know if you were here.” Before you could open your mouth she held a hand up. “I figured if you didn’t tell him where you were it was because you didn’t want him to know.”

“Thank you,” you sighed with relief, unconsciously leaning into Lando’s side. 

“You can tell me what’s going on over a nice cuppa tea and a muf- shit, my muffins.” She was quick to turn and dart back in the house, leaving Charles and Lando quietly laughing beside you. Since you weren’t going to be getting a hotel, Lando grabbed the suitcase from the back of the SUV before heading inside the modest home.

“So you didn’t get your cooking skills from her,” Charles teased as he inhaled the sweet scent of berry muffins filling the entrance hall. 

“Depends if she burned them or not,” you said, only half joking. 

“Woah, it’s little Spitz!” Lando stopped in front of the wall that was covered in portraits from being a baby through to winning F2. “Where’s the rest?”

“Jos is always at the races,” you murmured, “and he has a restraining order.”

Charles’ eyebrows lifted at the news and he understood even more why you disliked seeing him at each one supporting Max.

“Apparently trying to get the child support owed is classed as harassment,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “We really put the fun in dysfunctional family.”

Lando snorted but once he started laughing he couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry, it’s really not funny.”

You had seen him laugh enough in interviews to know it’s what he did when he felt awkward and didn’t know what to say. “Did you want to put our luggage in our room? It’s there, second door on the right.”

He gratefully took the escape you gave him and wheeled the suitcase down the hall as Charles continued his way along slowly, taking his time to see how you had aged over the years. “Oh my god, this has to be my favourite,” he said pointing to a particularly bad photo. “Why don’t you style your hair like this anymore?”

“Ha-ha, not all of our mothers can be hairdressers. You must be the only one on the grid that hasn’t had one bad hair style,” you huffed playfully before pointing to the photo of your first karting race. “This is mine.”

Charles stepped closer to see the wide smile you had with your helmet tucked under your arms and your two front teeth missing. You had kept the coins the tooth fairy left you in a savings jar so that you could pay for the fuel for the race. At one point you could remember considering pulling out another tooth that wasn’t wiggly just so you could afford a replacement part.  

“You’ve come a long way, amour,” Charles said proudly as he pulled you under his arm and kissed your temple.

“Charles,” your mum called as she stuck her head into the hall as held out a jar of jam. “Could you be a dear and open this for me, please?”

Slipping from your side he went to help your mum while you went to check in on Lando. He hadn’t made any progress at unpacking when you found him standing in front of your closet, his fingers tracing the pencil marks on the door jamb. 

“I can’t ever remember you being this short,” he said as you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your cheek in the dip between his shoulder blades. “Your presence always seemed bigger, I was so intimidated by it.”

You chuckled a little at his admission. “I couldn’t let anyone see how petrified I really was. Mum called it my brave face. I guess she couldn’t really say bitch face at that age.”

Turning in your arms, Lando cupped your face and tipped it back to meet your eyes. “I like brave face better.” Rising on your toes, you closed the distance between your lips and kissed him softly. 

“Lunch is re-” Your mother came to a halt in the doorway but neither of you made an attempt to hide what she had obviously seen. “Sweetheart, can we have a word?”

You chewed your lip as you nodded and stepped out of the room to see Charles was in the hall behind her but he slipped into the bedroom to give you a sense of privacy while still being close enough to step in if needed. 

It was impossible to get a read on your mother’s face as she opened the linen closet in the hall, effectively blocking them from sight, and she started piling blankets into her arms. 

“Honey, I’m not one to tell you how to live your life but I saw the pictures of you and Charles together, and the little moment you had in the hall. So please tell me you’re not planning on breaking his heart? He looks absolutely besotted with you.”

You smiled at the thought and shook your head before looking at her with a nervousness you had never had when telling her the truth. “I’m not planning on breaking either of their hearts,” you said after swallowing the wave of nausea that rose with your trepidation. She had been the first person you told when you had your first kiss, she had been the one you called when you got your first period. There had never been secrets between the two of you and you didn’t want to start now. “I love them, mum.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t string them both along-”

“No, mum, I love them both.” You stared at her as she blinked slowly once, then twice. On the third blink her eyes widened and she nearly dropped the blankets she held. “It also helps that they love each other too.”

You gave her a moment to process her thoughts but when you counted to ten and she still hadn’t said anything the sickening churning in your gut nearly sent you running for the bathroom. “Mum?” She looked at the blankets and silently placed them back on the shelf. “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, mum, I didn’t plan to but they make me unbelievably happy.”

“I’m not disappointed, just surprised,” your mum said softly as she closed the linen cupboard and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “I want you to be happy, honey, that’s all any parent wants for their child…I guess it saves me making up the rollout bed.”

You choked out a laugh, grateful that she could accept the news and crack a joke at the same time. “I can stop feeling sick now.”

“As long as you’re not pregnant. You are being careful, right?”

“Yes, thank you for your concern,” you muttered sarcastically. “I really don’t want to talk about this again.”

“You skipped the talk last time,” she reminded you and you remembered feeling the need to escape.

“For good reason too! You tried to tell me your ‘sexual experiences’ but as far as I am concerned you had sex once to make me and that’s it.” 

Her laugh filled the hallway and she clutched her chest. “Oh, darling, you have no idea.”

“I do not need to hear anything else.” You stuck your fingers in your ears as you retreated to your bedroom but her laugh still taunted you when you closed the door behind you. Leaning against the cold wood you met your boyfriends’ amused faces where they sat on the bed and pretended to shiver in disgust. “Gross.”

Lando was the first to rise and he placed his hand above your head as he leaned in with a grin. “That went well.”

“Surprisingly,” you admitted with a giggle of relief. “Though Max set the bar of expectation really low.”

Charles wrapped his arms around Lando’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder with a smile that you returned. “I missed this smile,” he commented quietly as he reached out to trace your lips. “When I see it, I know everything is right in the world.”

“Well, not everything,” Lando stated, earning a pinch to his nipple from Charles. “What? It’s true. We are going to face Max in nine days, that's a fact.”

You sighed at the best case scenario, because you could be called to Milton Keynes at any point before then too. “Then how about we make a deal and not mention it? Let me bury my head in the sand for as long as I can.”

“Deal,” Charles agreed before you both stared at Lando, waiting for his answer. 

“Fine, deal, but I want it noted that this was peer pressured.”

“So sassy,” you said as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him flush against your body. “Now seal it with a kiss.”

Click here for part seven.

[libraryofloveletters]

New Year, New Challenges.

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: heavy content warning ahead! - all the children are over 18!, cheating/publicized cheating, swearing, fights, separation of parents/divorce, alcohol and the consumption of, pregnancy mentions, abortions and medication relating to said topic, lots of tears, a few punches are thrown, throwing up, blood mentions, family therapy sessions, the dads are in over their heads, Charles is bamboozled as is Carlos and Pierre (all separate reasons), drunk teenagers, google translated French and Spanish. 

Word Count: 4.9k

Author’s Note: so many of you guys have been asking for an update to daddy and me + three, so here it is! it's a jam packed on so hopefully this holds y’all over lmao - there is heavy content in this, please check warnings before reading. 

Daddy & Me + Three Masterlist

---

Oliver’s 19th birthday was set to be an affair as dramatic as he was; booze, flair and fun was what the invite read when he showed you a few weeks back. 

As most events started, all of the children rounded up at the Leclerc house and headed out from there, the 6 of them heading to dinner with Georgina and Adrian meeting them there before they head to the club for the night. 

It was approaching 3:30 in the morning when the front door swung open - you, Charles and Carlos were all sitting in the kitchen. Sofia’s voice was coming from the foyer, the intensity matches the clicks of her heels on the tile floors.

Her father was waiting for her, the two of them would be on a flight heading to Spain in a few hours for her grandfather’s birthday. Hence why he was at yours, knowing that the kids would be getting in late and he figured it was best for her to freshen up by yours and head to the airport from there. 

What he wasn’t expecting were the words coming out of her mouth; “fuck you Christopher! You’re just like my fucking father. I refuse to end up like my mother.” 

The look of sheer mortification that covered her face when she saw her father in the kitchen was enough to make her sick to her stomach; the sudden taste of tequila creeps up the back of her throat before she runs out the backdoor. 

You could see the horror on Carlos’s face, the heartbreak setting in but her words replaying in his head as he realized what she said to Christopher, the man in the doorway. 

“You cheated on my daughter?!” Carlos shouts at him, already out of his seat. Charles was up right after him, putting himself between his son and his friend. 

Charles looks at you, his hands against his friend’s shoulders to push him back. Christopher was already rattling on an explanation to Carlos as soberly as he could and you took that as your chance to go out and check on Sofia. 

“Sof?” You called, stepping into the yard. 

The soft sniffles came from the swing set in the corner of the yard; you could see a figure in the dark, the light on the back patio brightened the yard just enough to make her out. As you made your way over to her, you thought back to the time she was 6 years old and Christopher had broken her favourite doll. She was in fits until Charles glued it back together for her but the entire time, she hid outside on the swings.

“Darling,” you rested a gentle hand on your shoulder, careful not to startle her. She turned to you in tears, her makeup smudged as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

You can’t help but feel sorry for the girl, your heart breaking into pieces when you pull her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into your chest as you rubbed her back. 

You sat next to her on the empty swing. “What for?” 

“For causing a scene, I didn’t mean to lose it like that.” 

“It’s okay,” you reached over to pat her hand. “You’ve got your father’s flare for dramatics.” You joked, hoping to lighten the mood. The mention of her father caused the tears to start again and you’ve gotten up, hugging the girl once again. 

“I didn’t know he was there.” 

“I know, and it's okay. He knows you didn’t mean it to hurt him.” You looked down at the girl, your hands cupping her face; she looked so innocent and little. You can feel the pieces of your heart breaking as you look at her. “It's okay to be mad at your dad, given everything that’s happened.. and Christopher too.” 

You weren’t even sure if he did cheat on her, you prayed to god that he didn’t but the last thing she needed at the moment was you taking his side over hers. 

Sofia has had a hard few months; her father’s cheating was publicized all over the news in Spain and all over social media through the racing community, her parents’ picture-perfect marriage fell apart in front of her and she watched as her mother packed her bags, along with her sisters and moved back home to Spain. Sofia stayed in Monaco for school and her father stayed with her; despite the cheating, which she knew he did, she didn’t side with her mother. 

She had always been Carlos’s favourite and she knew as much - it wasn’t fair to her for her to feel like she couldn't be mad at him because of that. 

“I know I should hate him,” she sniffled, pulling away from you. “I can’t.. he’s my dad.” 

“I know baby, I know.” You wiped her face with the inner side of your shirt. “Do you want to talk to him? I can ask him to come out here.” 

“Could you?” 

“Of course,” you smiled at the girl, kissing her forehead before walking back to the house. 

The three men were all on guard, waiting for one of the three to swing first. It felt a bit odd to be walking into something like that but you cleared your throat when you walked through the back door. 

“She wants to talk to you.” You say and Christopher takes a step towards you but you hold your hand out to stop him. “Not you,” you turn to Carlos, “you.” 

In the moments it takes you to tell Carlos what Sofia said, Charles is pulling Christopher away to the living room. You follow them once the backdoor slides shut. 

“You cheated on her?” You started on your son, “I cannot fucking believe you’d do that to her!” 

“Mom, I didn’t-” 

“Christopher, do not lie to me. Sofia is the best thing to happen to you, that girl has been in love with you since you were ten years old and you cheated on her? What quick fuck could possibly be worth breaking her heart?!” 

“Maman!!” Christopher shouts, his French coming out when he was flustered. “I did not cheat on her!”

You looked at Charles, your husband silent as he listened to his son explain for the second time since he got home what had gone down that night. “Sofia was getting a drink and Georgina comes up to me-” 

The mention of your son’s best friend puts you on edge; she’s a wonderful girl but you knew Sofia was wary of her and Christopher does stupid things when he’s drunk. 

“She was pissed, drunk like there’s no tomorrow and she was asking about Adrain who was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t leave her like that, ma. I had to help her, so she's clinging to me and I'm practically holding her at this point and I drag her through the club to find Adrian. Sofia saw us and assumed something had happened between us; that we kissed. “ 

“And.. did you.. kiss?” You looked at him, hoping for a no.

Christopher shook his head, “ew no! I love Georgina like a sister, mom. I would never cross that line, even if I was drunk. That’s disgusting.” 

You let out a breath of relief you weren’t even aware you were holding. Charles reaches out for you, his hand on your back when you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

These kids will be the death of you. 

“Chris, I love you but sometimes I wonder how you get yourself into these stupid situations.” 

“What was I supposed to do, mom? Leave my best friend drunk and alone?” 

“No, you did the right thing but you knew this is something that’s sensitive to Sof; give her time to cool off before you talk to her, let her fix things with her dad, yeah?”  

“Yeah.” He nods, sighing. You give his arm a squeeze, turning back to look at your husband and before you could speak, the front door is being swung open again. 

Eloise is singing Elton John’s I'm still standing on the top of her lungs and terribly off key - something she picked up from her father- but it was beyond obvious that the girl was drunk. 

Charles is rushing over to Anthony, the boy struggling to keep his girlfriend up as she was over his shoulder. 

You knew your husband was as pissed off as Ellie was drunk but he needed to hold it together. 

She’s his baby, she always will be even though she’s 18 now and old enough to drink; he knew she did it but he never expected her to come up drunk off her ass. 

“What happened?” He asked, helping Anthony put her down. The boy looked like he was about to collapse as well - surely he was drunk too, just not as bad as Eloise was. 

“Uncle Cha, I don’t even know man.” He ran a hand down his face, “she was beside me and next thing you knew, she was drunk and dancing with some girl she just met. I don’t know when she had time to take all of those shots.” 

Charles looked back at you, giving you a glare as you pursed your lips and looked away; there were many evenings before all of you had children that Pierre and Charles would have to carry you out the club after you had drunk your body weight in liquor.

The girl dropped herself against her father when she realized he’s there. “Hi papa!” She grinned at him, goofily you might add.

His face twists when he smells the liquor on him but he still brushes the hair away from her face as he used to do when she was little. “Ma belle, what happened?”

She shrugs, “dunno daddiooooo.” 

You bit back a chuckle, noticing a shadow coming from the front door - you really needed to lock your door. 

“Oh tu es là, bien.” (oh there you are, good.) Pierre pats his son on the shoulder. You looked at your husband’s best friend, confused as to why he's at your house at 4 in the morning. 

“Anto said they were coming here, I figured I'd come and see if you needed help with the kids,” he fills you in and Ellie turns in her father’s arms when she hears the familiar voice. 

“Uncle Pierre!” She squeals, stumbling towards her boyfriend’s father. 

The Frenchman catches the girl, glancing at you the same way your husband did minutes ago when she clings to him. “Quelqu'un s'est amusé ce soir, pas vous ? Je peux sentir l'alcool, ma chérie.” (Somebody had fun tonight, didn't you? I can smell the liquor, sweetheart.) 

She giggled at her uncle, holding onto him. “Oui, enfin du bon fun.” (Yes, finally some good fun.) 

Charles had looked more worried now than he did when he found the pregnancy test in her room. Pierre gives his friend a look, “I got her,” he tells him, picking up the girl. 

He held her, carrying her like a princess as she used to say as a kid when Pierre took her to bed; some things never changed. Anthony followed his father upstairs while you comforted your husband over the changing of times. He went to check on Carlos and Sofia while you got some water and something for Ellie to eat to sober up. 

Pierre puts the girl down on her bed, pulling her shoes off so she can get comfortable. Anthony replaces his father by her bedside while he goes to get the trash can. 

Eloise reaches for her boyfriend’s hand, looking at him with eyes full of tears. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, knuckles brushing over her soft cheek. She sniffles, holding back the tears. 

“I wish I had kept it,” Eloise whispers to him and Anthony looks at the girl, confused. “Wish you kept what, amour?” 

“The baby.” 

Pierre was right outside her door but he froze, off to the side as he heard the words; he knew he should leave, he shouldn't be listening to their conversation but he couldn't pull himself away. 

“What baby, Eloise?” Anthony’s eyes scan her face for some sort of an answer. 

“Our baby.” 

“We never had a baby.” 

“We almost did.” She whispers to him, the tears rolling down her face.

“Wha- the test was negative, Ellie. You weren’t pregnant. You’re drunk, mon ange. Get some rest, you don’t know what you’re talk-” 

“I was pregnant, Anthony.” Eloise stops him, forcing herself to sit up. “The test my dad found.. that was after.” 

Anthony’s brain is running in overdrive, his heart pumping out of his chest as he takes in all the information she dropped on him. “After what?” He asks and she doesn’t answer. 

He grabbed her hand, pulling slightly to get her focus back. “After what, Eloise?” 

Her eyes met his ocean blue ones, the same eyes she could see her whole future in and now, it felt as if it was disappearing from her. 

“Eloise, answer me.” 

“After the abortion.” 

Anthony sat there in silence; his head spinning as he tried to make sense of it. She was pregnant with his baby, their baby and she.. got rid of it?

It didn’t make sense. 

Eloise loved him and Anthony loved her, she’d never do that. 

The tears rolled down her fair cheeks, her hands gripping his wrists. “Anto.. please, say something.” 

“You were pregnant, with our baby.” He finally brings himself to speak. She nods, unable to talk without breaking down further into tears. “Why.. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you tell anyone?” 

“Gabe knew,” she whispers, “he took me.” 

Anthony was seeing red at this point; partly toward Eloise for getting the abortion and not telling him but mostly towards his brother in law for taking her. Anthony loved Eloise with every fibre of his being, he'd give his life for hers if that meant she'd be happy; he would have dropped everything to raise a family with her. 

HIs heart shattered into a million pieces over what could have been. 

He didn’t stop to think how she must have felt to go through that alone when he stormed out the room. “Anthony, please!” She shouted after him, far too weak to get up. 

Anthony sees his father by Eloise’s room when he rounds the corner to the stairs. Pierre gave his son an apologetic look, his own sense of distraught coming into play for both his son and his son’s girlfriend.

The man finds her in tears, her hand pressed to her chest as she tries to breathe. Pierre rushes to her side, holding her as he rubbed her back; “slow breaths, princess. In and out. I'm right here.” 

Anthony’s heavy footsteps caused Charles to look into the hallway, about to shout for the boy but he was already out the door, the wooden door slamming shut. 

“Jesus,” you huffed, looking from the kitchen. “What was that about?” You asked your husband, the man glanced at you, the door and then up the stairs. 

You can see his train of thought in front of you and you’re behind him the moment he heads up the stairs. Charles is rushing into the room, sitting on the other side of Eloise, both her father and his best friend doting over the girl. You wanted to join them but you stayed by the end of the bed, figuring that she’d been a bit of space. 

Judging by the look on her face and who just ran out the front door, you were almost certain you knew what had happened upstairs. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Charles rubbed her arm. She can't bring herself to speak, looking at you to fill in her father. Charles follows her glance and looks at you, “babe.. what’s-” 

“Was it the..” you trailed off, and she nodded. 

Pierre takes that as his sign to step out, giving you two some privacy with your daughter. “She had an abortion, Charles.” 

The shock was written across your husband’s face but he said nothing, instead he held your daughter as she cried. 

He was in shock; he didn’t even know she was pregnant and you knew? You never said anything to him but that was a conversation between you two best left for another time.

Charles goes to say something to you but there’s a loud shout coming from outside and you rush over to the window, checking to see what it was. The boys were shouting at each other, Gabriel on the floor with Anthony screaming at him. 

You look back at your husband, yet another wordless exchange and you rush downstairs. 

Outside, the scene unfolds; Anthony punches Gabriel square across the jaw when he sees him. “What the fuck?!” Oliver shouts, helping his boyfriend up. 

“Why the fuck did you punch me?” Gabriel groaned, rubbing his jaw. 

Anthony’s cheeks were covered in tears, the blind rage he was in fuelling his hatred for Gabriel at the moment. “How could you do that? To me? To your sister?” He shouted, going to hit Gabriel again. 

Oliver looks between the men, realizing he's clearly missing a piece of the puzzle. “Babe, what did you do?” He asked, a bit afraid of the answer he was about to get. 

Anthony answers for him; “he took her for an abortion.” 

“Ellie was pregnant ?” Oliver turned to Gabriel, the surprise in his tone and on his face showed Anthony that it was in fact a secret. 

Gabriel doesn’t even have the chance to answer when Anthony swings on him again. Gabriel reacts quickly, punching Anthony before he can get to him. Pierre was coming out when he heard the noise, as was Carlos from the back yard. 

“Hey!” Pierre shouts, you watched from the front step unsure what to do. “Charles!” You shouted from your husband, “hurry!” You shouted again.

Christopher takes this as his chance to see what was happening, slipping past you when he sees the fight. You couldn’t even grab him, the younger twin rushing to defend his brother. Carlos and Pierre are trying to pull them apart, Sofia was shouting at them to stop and poor Oliver was sick, the boy hunched over in your bushes, throwing up what was consumed at the club. Charles comes down and rushes out when he sees them, you walk over to check on Oliver.

At some point after Oliver stops puking, the dads manage to separate the boys; Chris with his father, Gabriel with Carlos and Anthony with Pierre. 

There’s two people walking up your driveway; Georgina and Adrian. 

It was nearly 6am now, the sun starting to cast an orangish hue over Monaco and you needed everyone inside before the streets got busy again. You hold Oliver’s arm to keep him up, “alright that’s enough! Everyone in the fucking house!” You finally raised your voice despite all the chaos, sending everyone into the house. 

The front door was locked after you walked in; a part of you wanted to put a no strays sign considering the amount of drama you’ve had over the last two hours. 

With all the noise, Ellie had come down and ended up joining all of you in the living room. All 8 kids squished onto the couch and on the floor in front of it as you and the dads watched from the fireplace. 

Per usual, they've left you to clean the mess - starting off the makeshift family therapy session. 

“We're gonna solve this in order, okay? I don’t want to hear a word until you're spoken too.” The kids nod, all of them feeling some sense of shame, but they sat there quietly. 

You turned to Anthony, “why’d you punch Gabriel?” 

“Because of..” he trailed off, not wanting to air his dirty laundry to those who didn’t already know. 

Those who knew, understood why he acted the way he did. 

Eloise looked sick, like she was gonna throw up all over the rug and her brother noticed as much, Christopher wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder, handing her his water bottle. Gabriel butts in, defending himself and his sister. “You can’t be mad, Anto. I only did what was asked of me, I never forced anything on her. She knew if she wanted to keep it, we would have helped her.” 

Anthony looked over at his girlfriend, the sadness and regret mixed across her face. 

She had her father’s fair complexion but never had you seen her look so pale. 

“It’s true,” she says quietly, “Gabe didn’t force me to do anything; he sat with me, made sure I was what I really wanted to do and at the time, it was. I was 17 Anthony, you had just turned 18 - we weren’t ready for that.” 

The room fell silent, the fathers behind you exchanged looks to try and fill each other quietly so they could understand what was happening. 

“I assume Gabriel hit you back in self defence,” you glanced between Anthony and Gabriel before turning to Christopher, “but you, god Chris,” you groaned. “You make some stupid decisions sometimes; why'd you have to get involved?” 

“He was punching my brother, mom. You can’t expect me not to defend him.” 

Charles looks at you, giving your hand a squeeze. “Dites-leur de laisser tomber. Nous n'avons pas besoin de plus de combats.” (Tell them to let it go. We don't need more fighting.) He says to you quietly, you nod in agreement. Pierre got the just of it, nodding to the plan of action. 

“Okay if no one had anything else to add, we're gonna drop this stupid ass fight. What’s happened is all said and done, you're all gonna drop it, yes?” 

You look at your sons and your daughter’s boyfriend, the 3 of them answering with some version of yes. Oliver raises his hand, you nod in his direction waiting for him to speak. 

“I just wanted to say,” he leans over Gabriel to look at Anthony, “that was a weak ass punch.” 

Anthony wasn’t having it with his friend, reaching over Gabriel to smack him but Christopher pulls him back before he can get to him. 

You huff, roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Thank you for that very helpful piece of information, Oli.” 

Oliver grinned, giving you a thumbs up. “Always my pleasure, auntie.” 

In this moment, you can’t help but see Max in Oliver; the wicked grin on his face was identical to his father’s. He was the spitting image of Max, ways and all.

Pierre snickers from behind you and you turn, glaring at the man. He raises his hands in defence, “I can’t help it, that was funny.” Anthony rolls his eyes at his father’s comment but sinks back into the couch. 

The living room was quiet once again and before you get the chance to speak, Georgina starts. “I don’t know what I did to you, but why are you giving me the nastiest look on the planet ?” She purses her lips, looking over at Sofia. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you did.” 

Christopher rests his hand on Sofia’s thigh, which she pushes away. “Sof, please. Don’t start.” 

“No, please do.” Georgina tells her, sitting up a bit more. “What did I do to you?” 

Sofia scoffs, rolling her eyes at Georgina’s lack of self awareness. “You being drunk doesn't excuse the fact that you kissed my boyfriend.” 

Adrian turns to his girlfriend so fast that he’s given himself whiplash, rubbing his neck when he goes, “huh?” 

“I did not kiss Chris! That’s so gross, I mean no offense Chris but like.. ew.” The disgust was evident on her face, looking at her best friend and his girlfriend. “Chris was helping me over to Adrian, I lost him in the club.” 

“So you two didn’t kiss?” Sofia looks between the two friends. 

Chris and Georgina both answer at the same time; “No!” 

She felt a bit bad for the events that had occurred that evening; her screaming match with Christopher, the words she said to her father and about Georgina but nonetheless, she brushed away the feeling. 

“Okay,” she nods, “sorry for assuming.” She says, getting up. “Papá, deberíamos irnos. No queremos perder nuestro vuelo.” (Dad, we should go. We don't want to miss our flight.)  

Carlos nods, getting up from his spot by the fireplace. You turn to your friend, “¿Ustedes dos están bien?” (Are you two okay?) 

He nods, speaking quietly. “Tenemos trabajo que hacer, pero estaremos bien.” (We've got work to do, but we'll be fine.) You smile, giving him a hug before you let him and Sofia walk out. 

Christopher follows them to the door, giving Sofia a hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to him, kissing his cheek. He nods, “it’s okay, babe. Have a safe flight, yeah? Text me when you land.” 

“I will,” she smiles, giving him one more squeeze before stepping out. Carlos pats Chris on the shoulder on his way out. 

Georgina was yawning, leaning on Adrian. “Can we just stay here?” He asked you, and you nod. “Of course sweetheart, you know you guys can stay here anytime.” 

“I’ll make the guest room up for you two,” Charles says, getting up and walking down the hallway. 

“I’ll help,” Georgina announces, getting up to follow uncle Charles as the kids deemed him many years ago, down the hallway. 

Oliver gets up as well, helping Gabriel up. “We’re off to bed!” He calls, linking arms with his boyfriend as he holds a tissue to Gabriel's nose. Your oldest looks at you, giving you an apologetic look for the mess he’s made. 

You walk over, kissing his cheek. “It's okay baby,” you held his jaw softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. 

“I’ll help him get cleaned up,” Oliver tells you, nodding to the now dried blood on Gabriel’s face. You smile, giving Oliver’s arm a squeeze before they head upstairs. 

You started clearing up the living room, tidying up the ruckus the boys made on their way in. Anthony gets up, walking over to Eloise. He kneels in front of his girlfriend who looks at him, the tears staining her pale cheeks. 

“Amour,” he starts, holding her jaw. You and Adrian take that as a hint to leave, he helps you pick up a few things and take it to the kitchen. “I love you, no matter what, okay?” He tells her. 

Eloise leans into her boyfriend, her forehead pressed to his. “Will you stay tonight?” 

“Not tonight,” he whispers. “I just.. I need some space tonight.” Eloise nods, understanding that this was a lot of spring on him, she could beg him to stay but it’d do neither of them any good. 

“I love you, always. I’ll be by tomorrow, okay?” He tells her when he stands. 

She nods, “I love you, Anthony.” She looks up at her and he gives her a small smile, the sadness not able to fully hide behind it. Anthony leans down, giving her a kiss before walking away. She blinks away the tears, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. Pierre walks over to her, kissing the top of her head. 

“It’ll be okay,” he tells her quietly, “you’ll be okay, I promise.” He smiles at the girl, giving her a hug. “I hope so.” She whispers and he nods, “you will be.” 

She can hear Christopher and Anthony speaking in the hallway, eventually her brother comes into the living room and helps her up. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”  He holds her to his side as they walk to the stairs. 

“Can I stay with you?” She asks, not wanting to be alone tonight. 

It reminded him of when they were younger and she’d swear she won’t get scared, begging to watch a horror movie with him and Gabriel. In the end, the three of them were squished into one bed because they were too scared to be alone. 

Christopher nods, “of course.” 

Adrian yawns, leaning on the counter as you filled the glasses with water. You slide two over to him, one for him and one for Georgina. “Did you tell your parents you were staying here? So they’re not looking for you?” 

“Yeah, my dad knows we're here but I couldn’t get ahold of Georgina’s parents.” 

“I’ll text George, don’t worry.” You tell him. 

Adrian takes a sip of his water before getting off the stool. “Is it always this crazy here?” 

You can’t help but laugh, “this is a regular Saturday for us, kid.” You walk him to the guest room, Charles was in the hallway getting extra pillows. “You get some sleep, it’s late.. or early? You know what I mean,” you give him a kiss on the temple before Charles hands him the pillows, the two of you leaving them to get some rest. 

Charles grabs your hand, sighing as you two walk to the couch. The curtains were wide open, the sun had risen and the clock on the wall ticked with each passing second - 7:23am. 

You looked over at him when you sat down, your husband’s head tipped back and his eyes closed. You can’t help but reach out and stroke his cheek - “remember when you wanted more kids?” You asked quietly, earning a laugh and a groan from him. 

He opens his eyes, looking over at you with a sleepy smile. “Thank you for telling me no.” 

Now you're laughing, leaning over to give him a kiss. “I love you, Charles.” 

“I love you, y/n. I don’t know what I'd do without you.” 

“Probably lose your mind?” 

He drops his face into your shoulder, nodding. “Most definitely.” 

--- 

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[pinkandgoldensoul]

Heyo!

Since I'm definitely a fan of your writings and this tinkling feeling of requesting you something has been irking me, can I request something like an arranged marriage with Pierre?

Angsty and maybe a happy ending. That's upto you.

Love your works. Hoping for more great pieces.❤️

Happy New Year 🎊

(At the end of the fic I'll leave a note about this request ❤️)

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pairing: pierre gasly x female!reader (feat. esteban ocon x female!reader and charles leclerc as reader's bestfriend) genre: arranged marriage, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, mention of s*x (not graphic), cheating, violence word count: 18.6k plot: you loved him, he loved you, and neither knew. Will an arranged marriage, an old love triangle and a special friend be enough to finally make you confess your true feelings?

Walking down the aisle, a bouquet clumsily held by trembling fingers, your whole chest was filled with quick butterflies batting wings, desperate to spread free. He was perfect. An astonishingly crafted smirk plastered on his face, ready for the flashes of the cameras to be captured, the suit slid on his athletic body without creases. You reckoned yourself inadequate in that white, plain dress: feeling pins pulling your hair left and right after hours of work by the hairdresser, the steady arm of your dad was the only anchor to the present moment. He never strayed his stare away from you, removing your veil in a slow, tantalizing motion. There were no vows to be exchanged and get mistaken in anxiety, no rings to be put through the wrong finger: you were and had always been his since forever, without he even had to ask. You peeked behind Pierre’s shoulder and saw Charles showing you an encouraging smile, which you tried to reciprocate despite sweating cold. You remembered his huge grin when Pierre had handed him the invitation: dimples on full display, Charles had flicked his eyes between the two of you and had been stoked ever since he was told he’d be best man. He’d been happier than Pierre himself had been about the news of the engagement with you and, consequently, about the wedding.

>>♥<<

«Okay, cool.» That had been his answer to you two fathers’ decision. They had grown best friends over the years, and they both didn’t like Pierre’s womanizer lifestyle, which was quite detrimental to his reputation. So your dad had decided to offer his own daughter to the Gasly’s like a sacrificial victim, knowing you had always had sympathy for the youngster and sure he would simply love you back with time. Of course, you were painfully aware of Pierre’s usual behavior around girls and, even though befriending him in teenage had made you helplessly fall in love with him, getting married felt like the cruelest assault to your dignity. For sure you would love him. And for sure he would not. Sitting on a couch right in front of each other, your parents discussing a couple of meters away, he simply bore his eyes into yours while drinking a glass of juice, legs spread out. «We’re going to have fun the first night together or…?» Your eyes threw a dagger to him, hit in your pride for the insensitive comment; Pierre wasn’t known for being delicate and considerate, when you used to hang out in group with him. After all, his humor was one of the things that had you capitulate before his feet. «Okay, I see. No jokes.» You squeezed your fingers into fists, uptight, dissatisfaction cursing through your blood. «Not on such things, Pierre.» «Like what? Sex?» he raised a brow. «My wedding.» you sighed. «Our wedding, you mean.» «Doesn’t seem as pivoting to you. Nothing will really change for you.» «We’re both going to wear a ring, y/n. Never seen a marriage without the groom or the bride.» He downed the last sip of the juice and placed the glass on the coffee table. You knew from the start it wouldn’t be a fairytale.

>>♥<<

«Don’t think a bride should stand on her own and look so sad.» Charles’ words whispered in your ear made you roll eyes and brought an immediate smile to your face. «Don’t think a best man should bother the bride with stupid remarks.» «Do you think it’s stupid?» he asked, raising his brow to insinuate doubt. «Pierre is having a blast and you… well, you’re here listening to the stupid remarks of the best man.» The small stem glass of champagne you still held had dried out of bubbles, but seemed interesting enough to draw your eyes down; Charles, genuinely sorry to witness your let down expression, wetted his lips and briefly glanced back at Pierre, laughing and dancing with the other guests. «Let’s go dance.» Caught by surprise, you tilted your head back up, wide eyes. «C’mon, don’t pretend you didn’t hear!» Charles chuckled, holding both your hands. «We’re going to make fools of ourselves…» «But that’s what we do the best when we’re together!» You let yourself be dragged in the middle of the dance floor set up under an outdoor gazebo: Charles’ ridiculous moves made a visceral laugh emerge from the depths of your fears, as he tried to involve you in his bubbly fun, despite the dress not helping the flow of your groove. «Geez, I feel so awkward!» you let out, head leaning backwards, invested by a childish happiness. «Just dance it out, we’re doing amazing!»

The sun setting down at the horizon threw an orange gold ray cut through the air, hitting Charles’ profile, getting both enlightened and obscured in two poetic halves which danced relentless and made you twirl around without a single thought. Out of notice, the guests had gathered around the two of you, enjoying the show you had put up; and when the music faded out to a slower tune, catching your breath in Charles’ arms, hands resting on his heaving chest, your sight found Pierre’s blue eyes, filled with an unreadable expression. As slower notes filled the air, he walked over to you, confident in each firm step, putting Charles’ luminous smile in defeat: when Pierre was around, there was no chance for you to look at any other person. He simply took your hands, implicitly warning Charles to move away and make room for him, tenderly joining the swinging fabric of your dress. Too affected by his presence and by racing thoughts about the future you would share with him from that moment on, you placed your burning cheek upon his chest, right above his heart. «Why didn’t you ask me to dance?» His question breached your overthinking silence. «You were too busy entertaining the guests.» You didn’t mean for your words to sound as veiled of sadness and resigned as they did, but you felt somehow content in letting Pierre know how you felt about the whole situation. He had you wrapped around his finger; his ring one. You were engraved in the inner circle of gold touching his skin, kissing it tenderly, vowing love to him any second. «I thought I’d make you uncomfortable giving you all my attention. You dropped a glass during lunch because of it, and I don’t want you to get hurt.» His smirk disseminated deep, red shame on your cheeks; why did you put blush on earlier that morning if Pierre was managing to do all the work by himself?

An unerasable pang of hurt chained your feet to the ground, unable to sink deeper into Pierre’s gentle hands holding you throughout the dance: you told yourself it wouldn’t shatter you completely if you thought he didn’t mean any of the things he did, he said. Holding you closer, cheek resting on his white, unbuttoned shirt, he left an unexpected and unseen peck on the top of your head, as you both still lulled to the beat. He then leaned on a side, dropping whispered words into your ear. «Want to see a smile on my wife’s face. It’s our wedding, after all, not our funeral.» As much as you wanted to feel hatred, you let Pierre’s jokingly voice sink, unconsciously obliging to his request right away. You felt young, drunk, foolish. You’d enjoy every bit of attention he’d spare you. Every single scramble.

>>♥<<

Pierre had insisted on picking you up before entering your newly bought apartment, to stick to the tradition; between giggles and laughs, you had admired you two’s mothers astonishing work of petals and candles signaling the way over to the bedroom. The dim lights enchanted your sight, as you stood speechless before the bed. Pierre’s hands caressing your forearms and slowly making their way up to your shoulders awoke you and froze you at once. The tip of his nose brushing your neck, you didn’t dare move nor speak as Pierre pressed soft kisses all over. Were you ready? Pierre encircled your waist with his arm, both relieving and accentuating the knot forming in your stomach. Would you ever be ready? You hadn’t talked about that moment, you hadn’t considered there’d be the need to. You thought he wouldn’t even touch you, once everybody’s eyes would be out of sight. So why was he taking all his time carefully unbuttoning the back of your dress, leaving open mouthed kisses on the bare skin he had available? «Pierre…» You soon realized your moan had been an incentive to Pierre when an airy chérie was whispered upon your shivering skin. «Pierre, I don’t know if we should…» «It’s our first night married, y/n. This is exactly what we should do.» His voice was warm, slightly raspy, perfectly calm and collected, concealing a burning desire underneath. Pierre tucked a lock of your neat hair behind your ear, leaving your neck shivering at the touch. «I know this probably isn’t how you hoped your wedding to be… But now I’m your husband, and I’m willing to do everything I’m supposed to. I’m not backing down.» «Will you ever love me?» you asked, suspended. Pierre tucked another strand of hair in the same spot. «I can’t promise that.» Of course, how would he? «But I’m always going to respect you, no matter what. I swore it and I’ll stand by it.» You slowly turned around to face him, picking up the gown of your dress and pressing a hand to your chest so that it wouldn’t slip off due to the strings being loosened. «Please, don’t… Please, promise you won’t hurt me, Pierre.» The pleading tone of your voice unexpectedly pulled a string inside Pierre’s chest. «Do you really think I’d do that on purpose? Y/n, we’ve been… we’ve known each other for so many years.» «That’s what scares me.» You diverted your gaze, staring at your own reflection on the window: you were now gripping at Pierre’s shirt, the bodice dangerously threatening to slip down, eyes brimming with tears. How could you be more miserable than asking your husband not to hurt you? «Y/n, I’m not a teen anymore. And I’m kind of offended that you think I’m what other people say and what the media want to make everybody believe.» «I wouldn’t have agreed to the wedding, if I believed all the things they said about you.» you whispered. «Then trust the words I said at the altar.» Pierre delicately cupped your cheek, leaving a slow, tender kiss on the opposite temple. «For better and for worse…» he said, boring his eyes into yours. «For richer and for poorer…» he carried on, swiftly freeing your arms from the dress’ sleeves. «In sickness and in health…» Pierre breathed upon your lips, grabbing the dress fallen down to your hips. «Until death do us part.» Gripping tight Pierre’s arms, you let him take your breath away with his sloppy kiss, shivering, despite your face feeling warm and flushed in heat. «I will love you, y/n.» Pierre tucked yet another strand of hair behind your ear. «Maybe not like a charming prince, but I will love you as much as I can.»

His fingers pressed on your shoulders, silently asking you to sit on the edge of the bed, to which you obliged without even thinking twice. The air was thick in pleasant tension: Pierre had let his jacket shuffling its way to the floor, staring at you as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt; on your side, you had joined his intentions fidgeting with the buttons crossing his chest and abs, fully focusing on the slow, tantalizing task, instead of searching the force to bear his magnetic eyes. The golden shade casted over your cheeks, blending with the natural reddish shade of feelings spreading over your skin, left Pierre with an unexplainable tug inside the chest, pushing him to bend down and trap you on the mattress with yet another kiss, suddenly impatient. His shirt long forgotten on the floor upon the jacket and his tie, Pierre’s roaming hands dragged your dress down, making sure you’d slip completely out of it, so that you’d be bare for him to avidly see, touch and savor. Senses overwhelmed by his presence, helplessly amazed at how he could enchant your limbs and make them so reactive and sensitive to his touch, your fingers searched for relief on his body, between his brownish locks of hair, on his muscled neck and upper arms. Anything, to release the growing yearning he was masterfully building and lighting up inside of you. Pierre stopped all of the sudden, one elbow keeping him up, eyes lost in focus, as the fingers of his free hand traced an imaginary line from your sternum, down your chest. Before you could swallow hard at the gesture, he placed a lewd kiss right where his pointer finger had stopped. Again, uncontrolled, a soft moan escaped your already opened lips, tugging at his hair as to both pull him away and push him deeper into your soul. He raised his eyes to look at you hungrily, lips still stained with your skin. «I will honor you all the days of my life, y/n.» Pierre read the soft stare you gave him and the lovingly caress of your hand on his head as an invitation to drag his mouth upon your tender breast, finally free from the white cloth he had wished to tear apart since he had seen you walking down the aisle, swearing to himself he’d not be satisfied until he’d heard you scream his name from the top of your lungs, with his own hands, eyes and heart full of you.

The wedding being held in Italy at the beginning of September, right after Monza’s race weekend, you both had spent only a couple of days in the new house in Milan, in the attempt of building the sense of affectionate routine you would inevitably lose after taking the flight for Azerbaijan, following Pierre in the double-header awaiting him. The media had called it “racing-moon”. It was no ordinary honeymoon, travelling across the globe to support your husband, watching him with a pair of headphones and staring at him from a screen inside Alpine’s box, shying away from paparazzi’s cameras ready to capture glimpses of intimacy you didn’t even know how to spark yourself. A night of love wasn’t enough to erase the helpless feeling of distance and separation around Pierre: you were friends, sure, but your heavy crush on him had always prevented the relationship from growing further as it had happened with Charles. Daydreaming about him laying down your bed, earphones plugged, you had known every single detail about the things he liked while being in your early teens; now, looking at him packing his suitcase, standing at the doorframe you realized you either had never known him before or you had forgotten anything at the altar once he had kissed you alive.

«Do you need help?» you asked, closing and releasing your fingers from a fist, feeling useless. «Oh, didn’t notice you were there.» he quickly peeked at you. «No, thanks! I don’t know how, but it took half the time.» You raised a brow, leaning against the frame with arms crossed. «Maybe… it was the perfectly organized wardrobe I spent two days filling up with all your clothes?» «Mmh, I’m not really sure… Maybe I’ve just got quick with packing, since I’ve been doing it every other week for years now.» His smirk triggered an eye roll in you, so noticeable that Pierre turned to you, taking the suitcase off the bed and letting it roll on the floor. Not kind of expecting him to get that close to you after only stopping by the room, suddenly aware of how his stare could get your whole body drawn to him, succumbed to him, enchanted and gravitating around his brightness, you let yourself be courted by Pierre’s teasing fingers running up your arms. «I’m done now, so…» he said. «So?» «The bed is clear.» Throwing him an amused glance, about to laugh at how lewd his voice had sounded while hinting at the endless list of things you could do there, you pretended not to get his point. «Well, good job! We have somewhere to sleep tonight then.» «There’s no way, right?» Pierre squinted his eyes, hands still warming your skin caressed by the hot Italian wind blowing from the window. «Way to do what?» you asked, faking innocence once again. «I think you perfectly know.»

September’s heat had paired up with the warmth creeping up your ears while Pierre encircled your waist and inched over, causing butterflies inside your chest to awake your heart, moving past your thoughts to put them to sleep, as an overwhelming flow of love made you crave that heavenly attention and touch every second more. Pierre seemed to stop in his relentless chase of a kiss: he stood still, enjoying the closeness, the intimacy of the moment, with your arms enclosed around his neck. There was no rush. The house was hollow and silent; only your breaths could be heard, mixed with the distant chatter coming from the street. Maybe that was the happiest and most peaceful corner of life he would ever know. Maybe holding your waist knowing that you were his wife, that he had settled his forever home, maybe spending his life with you was happiness. He struggled forming deep rooted love feelings towards you, yet could picture the two of you having kids so easily, travelling together, filling that empty house with memories. Maybe it was the fondest look in your eyes making every fantasy so incredibly near and easy. There was something, though, that Pierre didn’t find hard to spark at all. «Changed your mind?» you whispered, teasingly but soft. Attraction. Pierre was so desperately enamored with your body; to be fair, he had always quite been. Untouched by innocence, back at the time you would hang out in group, he would see you utterly oblivious to how other guys glanced at you and wonder if you had ever had sex before. The night of your first time together – the wedding’s – he had both been unfazed and surprised about noticing you weren’t a virgin: it totally made sense for someone as beautiful as you to have been with a guy, but at the same time he had no clue of who you had appointed as the one, and it was weird, because you used to hang out with the same people. He had always thought you had been in his universe, like a satellite, and had always taken your presence for granted, without ever considering he could be the planet on the margin of a totally different galaxy you shined in. Pierre was so intimately envious of a past you didn’t allow him in, and his only way to cope was making sure he could be your only future. «Not at all.» The fastest flicker of his eyes down to your lips was the warning, which you took in with delight: and Pierre was all over you, dragging you into his lighthearted desires and plans, igniting a shy flattering shade beneath your cheeks.

Pierre had insisted on entering the paddock hand in hand; in return, you had insisted on giving your right hand, standing on his left side. He had frowned just enough for you to capture it, not able to understand your request. «As you wish.» But you knew why: and your thumb gently stroking his wedding ring knew as well. Unexplainable excitement was the first feeling which had insinuated in you as you put foot past the turnstiles: Pierre had reminded you quite a few cameras would be following you in a bee line right around you. You were too happy to care, in your first outing as a married woman. As a married couple.

«Oh, hello to the royal couple!» You couldn’t stop yourself from eye-rolling at Charles’ comment, drinking Pierre’s laugh like a shot of bliss. «What, are you jealous?» They laughed and joked around, giving friendly pats to each other, while you watched them with a grin plastered on your face, enjoying the luck of spending time with people you loved. So many things had changed, but it still felt like you were still sixteen, walking without destination in group, young and careless, emptying your pockets full of dreams and using them as currency of exchange between each other. «Catch up with you later, I’ve got a meeting now!» «See you later!» you waved at Charles, as Pierre greeted him.

Entering Alpine’s hospitality you squeezed Pierre’s hand in fright: out of the blue, a deafening clapping concert made your heart fly across the room, as mechanics, engineers and other people from the staff celebrated you two. Pierre looked down at you, curious to see your reaction, still infected by the serene and uplifted atmosphere, swimming in delight as soon as your eyes clicked with his and saw you flattered. There was a bit of pride in showing you off like a trophy, proving everybody wrong with the assumption he’d never settle down and never find the one. Well, he didn’t really choose you out of love. But nobody was meant to know that.

«Congratulations, mate.» The voice reaching from behind your back made you turn, despite it being directed at Pierre. Your eyes flew high to Esteban’s face, enlarging in surprise: he wasn’t looking down at you, caught in the weirdly friendly interaction with your husband. But as soon as Pierre was dragged into pats and hugs by team members, you were left with a whole bag of memories and discarded feelings coming back to the surface, standing still next to someone you once knew. «It’s like the old times, isn’t it?» he casually said, as you both stared at the packed room, side by side. «No, Esteban. Everything changed.» Bittersweetly shoving your left hand before his face to make a definite statement, he carefully grabbed it and brushed your ring with the thumb, taking a close look. «I don’t believe so.» he let go of your hand, smiling politely. «What are you talking about?» you asked, kind of annoyed. «You still think you have Pierre all to yourself when we know nobody does.» «Don’t… don’t you dare talk crap about him in my presence. You know nothing.» Staring into the void, you tried to stay calm and collected, swallowing the phantoms of the past. «I respect that. But I just wanted to remind you of when you were the one talking crap about him in my presence.» «That was years ag-» «And I was there to listen to you.» You dropped the accusatory finger you had brought dangerously near his chest, mind invaded by guilt and yellowed pages of life. «I’ll still be here for you when Pierre messes up again.» «He won’t, Este.» «We’ll see.» he shrugged, glancing back at the room. «But I’ve spent more time with him in the last year than you have, and I know he is no easy character.» «I’m not going to change my mind, if that’s what you’re trying to do.» you raised a brow, skeptical. «I simply wanted to wish you good luck.» Esteban’s impassive tone left you with the urge of replying: as much as you were filled with doubts and fears, you somehow trusted Pierre and his promises and wouldn’t bear anyone implying stuff. Especially Esteban. Because, to a degree, he knew the situation better than any other. His eyes, that despicable spark of mischief, anger and regret inside of them told you things you didn’t want to hear. «The staff would like to get to know my wife if only my teammate would let her be.» Pierre’s amused interruption startled you, almost feeling caught red-handed with the most terrible crime: talking to a guy he trusted and had grown to hate over time. «Sorry, Pierre! My fault. I was… keeping up with the Gasly’s.» The awkwardness and the tension of the moment didn’t go unnoticed to any of you, and you mentally thanked Pierre’s hand resting on your waist, slowly guiding you away from Esteban, who still stared at you with a small courtesy smile. «We’ll have to bear his presence, I know. Trust me, if I could, I’d rather have him on the other side of the planet.» Pierre sighed defeated while whispering those apologies laced with hatred in your ear and a pang of nostalgia, guilt, sorrow pushed you a little closer to him. «He’s not a problem, Pierre. We know how to be civil.» He looked at you, faking amazement at your reply, nodding his head with raised brows. «You’re more mature than I thought.» «More mature than you are? For sure.» You expected him to laugh; instead, he grinned in silence, a strange sparkle wobbling in his irises. A part of you clung onto it, wishing it was a veil of tenderness, affection, or anything like it towards you. For a moment, you held the hope in your hands, and you carefully caressed it, cherished it, making room in your heart to plant it and nurture it there, as if that single twinkle could ever be the seed of love.

>>♥<<

Baku’s street didn’t seem as bumpy to Pierre, now that he was walking on it with a small group of engineers; the main straight heading to the finishing line seemed unnecessarily long, especially since he had just travelled the entire track and had the pitlane as destination. Left with nothing else to discuss with his team, he enjoyed the sun setting and painting the city gold, taking it easy and slow. «Pierre!» The Frenchman turned around and immediately grinned wide, waving to Charles jogging to him. «Track walk? Thought I’d see you speeding riding a bike.» Charles chuckled, adjusting his jingling bracelets. «I wanted to enjoy the atmosphere better.» «Yeah, me too.» They strolled pensive, no rush to be drowned by the buzzing life of the paddock. «I can’t believe it.» Pierre looked at his friend, who had a pleased grin painted and hung by his dimples. «What?» «This is your first race weekend married. And I was your best man. Isn’t it crazy?» «Time flies, Charles.» Pierre scoffed with a smile. «I saw you celebrated in the hospitality, earlier.»

As Pierre narrated the small party the team had organized to Charles’ ecstatic eyes, his thoughts lingered on you, on the myriads of unexpected congratulations he had received for choosing such a kind and fine woman and making her his. Though, there were moments he felt like he was just above an acquaintance to you. Pierre sighed. «What was that?» Charles asked. «Sometimes I think I don’t really know y/n. Not as much as I should, I mean.» «You do know her, though. You’ve been hanging out together since high school.» «Charles, I don’t even know who her first boyfriend was.» Pierre’s pinch of helplessness caught Charles by surprise, reciprocating his sudden stare with bewilderment. «Did- I didn’t even know she’s had a boyfriend.» the Monegasque stuttered. Pierre looked down at the asphalt. «Hoped you did. But you see? We don’t really know her.» «Well… You’re married now. You have all your life to get to know her.» Charles put his arm around Pierre’s shoulders, giving him an encouraging look. «Yep. That’s my best man right there!» Pierre reciprocated the grab and smiled as the two of them walked down into the pitlane, serving friendly smiles and beautiful shots to the photographers buzzing around the garages.

>>♥<<

«Hello?» «Uhm, am I disturbing you?» «Yes, absolutely. But I’m going to be the nicest just for you.» «Thanks for the usual teasing, Charles.» «What’s up?» «I… I’m deeply embarrassed, but I think I’m lost. I can’t find the way to the track.» «Never heard of Google Maps?» «I’ve tried, but I ended up exactly back at the hotel.» «Ooof. There’s actually someone out there who’s worse than me then.» «Ah, I wouldn’t have called you if Pierre wasn’t busy.» «Can’t I be busy as well?» «Cha’…» «I’m just joking. Are you at the hotel?» «Yep.» «’M on my way.»

The bubbly air of that Saturday morning brushed your bare arms, anticipating the warmth falling onto the grey asphalt, as you walked quickly alongside Charles, trying not to get stopped by fans too many times. «Why didn��t you come to the track with him?» «I think he tried to wake me up, but I… uhm… fell asleep.» «It’s incurable, right?» You both chuckled, still marching towards the paddock. «How is it going?» «Uh?» «With Pierre.» A horn startled you, while Charles waved towards the Tifosi on the other side of the street and smiled under his Rayban’s. «Good! I mean, way better than I thought.» Charles studied your expression, letting your own statement sink in. «You know, I talked with him yesterday. He asked me if I knew who your first boyfriend was.» «Did you tell him?!» you gasped. «Of course not, I’m not that mad.» he looked straight ahead. «But he seemed somehow disappointed. He really wants to know you on a deeper level.» «And tell him about my hookups as he did with us? No, thanks.» «Not necessarily about past relationships. There are so many things you could rediscover now as a couple, and he’d like to. He… he cares. Pierre isn’t the asshole you believe him to be.» «You know my reasons, Charles.» «I do, y/n. But I also know Pierre, and I’ve never seen him as determined and serious in any other relationship before.» A doubtful glance at him turned into an amused snort, as you saw Charles’ dimples already exposed for you to admire. «I should give him a chance, uh?» you joked, kicking a pebble. «Yeah, you definitely should.» «I hate you.» «What’s that for?» Charles chuckled. «You’re too convincing.» «Maybe you only wanted to hear someone else’s confirmation.» You took a moment to reflect, still looking at his green eyes, letting the sentence resonate inside of you. Perhaps you had only been waiting for a sensible reasoning to justify the senseless, self-destructive and visceral need of trying to build a stronger relationship with Pierre.

>>♥<<

Crossing the room, hands intertwined with yours, Pierre felt alert, almost knowing something about bringing you along to that small reception organized for commercial reasons only was intrinsically wrong. Until he spotted a pair of brown eyes lingering way too long on the fine straps grazing your shoulders’ skin. Esteban’s. Despite the years, despite trying, despite the countless shots he had given to their relationship, Pierre couldn’t let go of hatred: the memories of the three of you in the same couple of meters, in the same suffocating room were still a fresh wound which had reopened once more. Unaware of anything, you reciprocated with a reassuring smile Pierre’s tighter hold on your hand, an enquiring look on your face. He expected you to stiffen at Ocon’s mere sight; instead, you stood like a fragile yet flexible flower against the blowing wind, only caring about being… as marvellous as you were. Pierre had been learning it to his disadvantage each day a tiny bit more, trying not to read too much into your rosy cheeks and your fond, unmistakable stares. The delicacy and the grace you would use with others any time you got the chance to talk with people from the team, the paddock, the entire world, really, hit him in an unknown spot of the soul. Probably as hard as Ocon approaching the two of you with a champagne glass in hand did on his nerves. «Didn’t expect to see you here.» Esteban said, only addressing you. Chewing a lump of awkwardness, you threw the quickest glance over to Pierre to check his reaction after being deliberately ignored by his teammate. «Here I am.» you whispered, pressing your lips together with an embarrassed smile. «Wasn’t I clear enough when I told you to stay away from her?» A lightning struck the room. The bitterness in Pierre’s tone triggered a light-hearted laugh from Esteban, theatrically opening the arm and letting the small wave of champagne wash the resentments of the past away. «Come on, Pierre! How many years passed? We aren’t teenagers anymore.» His fingers grabbed your hand tighter, restraining himself from spitting words of fire against his former teammate once again: the bottled-up anger, though, had resurfaced much to Pierre’s surprise, and to yours as well, pressing the button “play” on the reruns of the day their entire relationship crumbled.

No matter what you could’ve done to avoid it, Pierre and Esteban were born to disagree. Nobody could stop that tickling bomb hiding in both their chests as soon as they would spend enough time together to let it explode. Even without you, they would’ve nurtured antipathy for each other; that was how it was supposed to be, and they both knew it. Nestling against Pierre’s loving arms draping you all, you stared at an indefinite point of the packed, but still empty, room. «Do you think it’s my fault?» Pierre placed his chin on your shoulder to listen to your whispered rumbling, joining you in the contemplation of the void. «No, I don’t. He was a douchebag even before treating you the way he did.» It didn’t seem like he was lying, to be fair. You knew very little about the stormy past between the two, since you had met Esteban way later than you had befriended Pierre; he had never told you a thing about a terrible kid who grew up with like a brother and then discarded him due to insane competitiveness. Esteban was dead to him. A Mr. Nobody existing without any string to his life but hate and resentment’s. Unspoken truth, they both liked you and cared for you in very different ways, so it was only natural for them to notice each other’s evident preference for you and clash because of it; that was how it was supposed to be, and they both knew it, deep deep down. «Can we please forget about him?» The careful urge of the sentence was paired with a swift brush of his hands taking yours, silently asking you to dance to the music now blasting through some speakers in the room. Maybe lightness was all you both needed to be happy.

Singapore’s humidity clung onto your lungs like a suffocating net, twirled around your trachea, squeezing it tight. With an invisible layer of sweat all over your skin, heat as well as worries and doubts made you melt before the evidence, before reality. Two weeks and you had already become a ghost. Imprisoned in the highest tower of the lies’ castle, your honeymoon had turned into a tour around the globe inside a golden cage: everybody saw you as the “trophy-wife”, a peculiar and exotic animal stupid enough to bear Pierre’s company, showed left and right, avidly and superficially looked at, never considered as a real person.

Any time Pierre would come home from unbelievably long training sessions and meetings of all sorts, you didn’t even have the strength to start an argument and cry your loneliness out. He’d absent-mindedly kiss your cheek, go take a shower and leave you to your unfinished essay draft sitting in the dust of your laptop’s memory. Eating some take-out he’d leave you choosing in religious silence, punctuated with brief chat, you’d often watch a movie on the couch: staring blankly at the screen, you’d focus on how foreign the touch of his arm around your shoulder would feel. An afterthought, quick enough to disturb the turbulence of your headspace. I simply wanted to wish you good luck. Luck. It would’ve never been out of love, but out of pure chance. As if Pierre could never learn to love anyone. Still, admitting to yourself Esteban was right would’ve been an unnecessary added humiliation. «We’re too slow in the middle sector, I’m understeering everywhere…» It was a secret you wanted to keep buried in your chest. «But you gain in the last sector, you see? Our top speed is good.» Not being reciprocated. An ineffable hurt. You miserably looked at your husband debriefing intensely with his performance engineer, standing at the back of the garage so that you wouldn’t be in the way of the many mechanics working around the car. Envious, you fixed your gaze upon the fan Pierre held in his hand, still busy talking and pointing at data on the screen. The air felt too thick to be breathed in, too dense to slide down your lungs and swoop your dark thoughts away. You had agreed to be his wife, due to the endless love you had. But what if he let that love slowly wither and die? What if you could grow out of love? What if finally having him was enough for you to become indifferent? What if neither of you could remain loyal to the promises you vowed?

Swallowing hard, you shut your eyes shooing the sudden dizziness away; and at the very same time, you felt a gentle weight lingering on your right shoulder, asking quietly for permission. You opened your eyes, obliged to wide them as soon as you saw it was Esteban. «Here, drink this.» A water bottle was handed to you, still struck by the soft eyes and the attention being addressed to you. «It’s electrolytes. With this weather I always make sure to keep hydrated, since it’s easy to lose liquids and mineral salts as well.» A thousand questions ran through your mind, to the point Esteban could almost see them being scattered from one pupil to the other. He invited you to drink once again, poking pride sitting in his chest as he had noticed you being in discomfort first. First than… him. The quick glance Pierre gave the two of you was enough to stir up even stronger satisfaction, a lovely victory in the endless mind-war they fought. «Thank you.» It came out stifled, high-pitched, a bit squeaky, but somehow filled with unexpected sadness. Pierre crossed the garage in a couple of strides, wearing a mask of concern you couldn’t read the authenticity of, shielding you with his body from the unwanted attention Esteban had provided you with. «Are you okay? You could’ve told me you were thirsty.» «Pierre, I’m fine.» you told him off, almost whispering. He darted a glance at his teammate once again as soon as his hand reached yours to grab the water bottle back, willing to take off the hideous smile he wore on his face. Lots of eyes inside the garage had observed the scene in silence, still glancing over you, as Pierre’s attentions and barely noticeable physical touch felt all too much to bear at once. You would’ve died for it, only a couple of months earlier. If only the wedding weren’t a well-thought plan, a pact between family friends, a tie nobody but you craved intimately and deeply because of the loving, totally disregarding the real practical reasons behind it. Ocon’s silhouette being drowned in his side of the garage made your mind slip back into the past, unboxing a metallic box of memories you had buried six feet underground.

Disappointed. The disapproval you had read in Pierre’s face right as you showed up to the club next to the “new friend” you wanted to be joining your historical trio had your heart shattering like a glass of wine from a polished tablecloth, painting the floor in red diamonds. Pierre had dragged you in the middle of the dancing crowd, leaving Esteban hanging at the entrance before a confused Charles. «Why did you bring him here?!» «He’s… I wanted to introduce him to you and Cha’!» you yelled, in order to be heard amidst the chaos. «I know him already, and he’s an asshole. Now tell him to leave! I don’t want him anywhere near me!» «You can’t force anyone to leave a public place! And… And I want to spend time with all of you.» He bored his eyes into yours, letting the blasting music take over your thoughts. «I’m not hanging out with you if you buzz around him.» It was definitive. «Call me when you’re done wasting time with that piece of shit.» Giving you his back, you saw him dive into the sea of people, to find and rapidly grab the waist of the brunette who had accompanied him to the party; he didn’t even bother to be far enough so that you wouldn’t see him shove his tongue down her throat, a tangle of hands messily roaming, touching, squeezing yearning skin. Este’s hand softly intertwining yours guided you towards a quiet table, to which Charles sat waiting, with drinks for the three of you; and as much as you would’ve liked to be grateful for Charles’ delighted stare, for Esteban’s soothing words, your heart still drowned in bubbles at the bottom of your cocktail. He’s my boyfriend. Those were the words you were about to say at the door of the club, to Pierre. You had already anticipated the sweetness of the moment, the satisfaction in proving you weren’t his little puppy, a slave rebelled to the master showing him the jingling keys which had freed him. The mere need to prove him anything was the undeniable sign of slavery. You’d never be free.

>>☆<<

«Are you sure?» «Yeah…» «Here? Don’t you want to go-» You shut Esteban up pressing your lips on his, carrying on the messy make out session you had started in the club’s bathroom. «Y/n, are you really sure?» The kiss was interrupted once again, leaving you with an unbearable, unsatisfied yearn making your heart swell and explode in ashes of frustration. «Don’t you love me, Este?» you whined, your fingertip dragging his bottom lip down in the drunken attempt to seduce him even further. Of course he loved you. He had agreed to take your virginity away as you leaned your back onto a bathroom’s door, during the most boring and miserable of nights out, accepting to be humiliated by Pierre in front of you, his own girlfriend, and dancing awkwardly in the crowd before you dragged him there to pour out the unexplainable need of getting your brain fucked out. Esteban loved you purely, too purely, to be fair: he felt like a noob and inexpert, an amateur he was not, while listening to your heavenly choir of whimpers and profanities, with his fingers gripping tight your hips, as not to lose you. Deep down he knew he should’ve been satisfied and content, he should’ve enjoyed that piece of pleasure and love – but was it love to you? Esteban wasn’t quite sure – because he had managed to snatch you away from Pierre’s clutch, he had laid his hand onto someone he hadn’t had already: he had won where Pierre had lost. Still, thrusting into you as waves of pleasure rocked your body and transfigured your expression, Esteban only felt like he had lost you, indeed, like he had never truly had you, not even physically. And when your warm hand caressed his cheek, he got the confirmation: you pitied him, because no matter how bold the “boyfriend” tag could be, your heart could only crave, think of and wish Pierre.

The break-up was, nonetheless, harmful. After damning yourself, considering how nice and kind Esteban was to you, how sweet some of the moments you had spent together had been, you had come to the conclusion that no other feeling in the world could replace or overshadow the consuming love you felt for Pierre. You didn’t need it to be easy and satisfying; as hurtful as it could be, you only needed him. And to his own dismay, Esteban knew it.

«Can you drop me off at that bar over there?» you pointed at the end of the street. «Why?» «I simply need to hand this to Pie-» «Oh, no, just save it. I should’ve known.» You frowned, looking at his tensed arms. «Is there something wrong?» He scoffed, gripping the steering wheel ‘til his knuckles turned white. «Absolutely not! My girlfriend only runs after another guy who also happens to be a moron and doesn’t give a shit about her while I’m being the third wheeler to my own relationship!» Esteban harshly braked in front of the bar. «Y/n, we’re done.» «What?» you gaped, still stunned by the whole conversation. «I don’t want to be with you anymore. Now get out of the car.» Beyond bewildered, you searched for sincerity and honesty in the brown chocolate eyes you had often lost yourself into, stung by hurt as you found them. «Are you seriously breaking up with me for this? I just need to return this hoodie to him!» Esteban’s eyes bore yours outraged, almost incredulous to your words. «Can’t you see the problem? Can’t you notice how you’re chasing after him and are not willing to treat me nearly the same as you treat him? You share clothes with him and you’ve never even asked once for my hoodies!» «Did you want me to?» «That’s not the point, y/n! The fact is it seems like I never cross your mind, whereas Pierre is always in your thoughts. Sorry, but I can’t bear to see you love him more than you love me. I can’t do this anymore.» Gasping for air and for words, you found none: you witnessed helpless as Esteban got out of his seat and reached to your side to open the car door and invite you once again to get out. «Y/n, don’t force me to be drastic. Come on.» «You’re being nonsense! Este, please, you can’t do this!»

Watching your first relationship crumble under the weight of painful lies, you desperately held onto the car door, despite Esteban’s hand trapping your wrist, firm. «Y/n, I told you to get out.» As you pleaded him, whispering “sorry”s like prayers, few tears pricked your eyes, which seemed to sort the opposite effect of what you had hoped for. Esteban, blinded by hurt and rejection, pulled your wrist towards him in an attempt to drag you out the car, and as an unconditional reflex you cried out to him, a tear cutting through your cheek. «Este, please… Please, don’t do this to me!» «You didn’t care about hurting me, why should I care about hurting you?» As he spitted out these words, scornful, he managed to pull you out the car with a jerk, eliciting a chain of heavy tears to reach the ground, which blurred your vision. Esteban was still talking to you, wrist aching to be freed underneath his hold of steel, but your mind refused to make sense of any of the insults directed at you, as much as your eyes couldn’t clearly distinguish his angry face. You had stopped fighting him, though, surrendered to the sad truth he had unveiled despite you trying to cover it up. A truth made of lies. Exposed to your own blade, humiliated and full of regret, you stood still, frozen, incapable to react. And it was then that you saw Esteban’s body being crashed violently onto the chassis of his car with a loud thud. Your wrist was suddenly snatched from the grab, and you swiped some tears to witness clearly the scene unfolding before you. Pierre holding Esteban by the collar. Pierre was shouting onto his face, unleashing his fury, barking his disgust and hatred; and though you and him both expected some sort of reaction from Esteban, you both watched him stay silent at the accusations. «Don’t ever touch her again! Don’t you even try to show up again, understood? Go fuck yourself and stay away from us!» Pierre shouted, putting a protective arm around your neck and bringing you close. But he couldn’t protect you from those brown eyes, which swallowed down the secrets you weren’t ready to share with Pierre. Esteban judged you in the harshest way possible: leaving you to your own conscience. «It’s okay, now. You don’t have to cry anymore.» Pierre wiped your face off, pulling your head to him for his chin to rest upon, rubbing your back with his hand, as you watched Esteban get back in the car and disappear in a cloud of smoke. «He won’t bother us anymore, I promise. You’re safe, with me.» What a paradox: safe in your captor’s arms.

You let yourself be cradled by Pierre’s honey-laced reassurances, trying to digest the shock of the whole situation bit by bit, failing not to feel sorry for having deceived Esteban and yourself. You had believed you loved him; which wasn’t and could never be true. And the awareness weighed on your chest even heavier while being held in Pierre’s arms.

HOT NEWS: Alpine’s driver Pierre Gasly is told to had been seen very intimately close to another woman during a formal gathering with top sponsors of the team. Has the recent marriage with y/n cracked already?

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜? 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢/𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛.

>> 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭: 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 “𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕”. 𝙻𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕... N𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚓𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖’𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚜… 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛; 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍: 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢? 𝙸𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎’𝚜.

Paralyzed on the spot, you let the phone gently thud against the kitchen counter. It was nothing you didn’t expect to happen to you; you had lived through it even before whispering with soft eyes “I do” at the altar, when you used to scroll his Instagram picture-perfect shots with his girlfriends, but the timing he had chosen was way off your forecast. The thunderstorm had darkened your sky too early. You hadn’t seen it coming, you hadn’t heard a single roar of the wind in the distance. Nothing. Pierre had given you nothing either to hate or to love. Somehow, a small part of you felt sickly relief in knowing you could finally turn your eternal suspicion into hatred: you wished you could mold it in shape, form sentences to dagger him with, cries to let out your throat with violence. Nothing came. Nothing.

You stood by the counter as you let the bloody red liquid boil into the pan; staring at it, you absentmindedly kept stirring the sauce, not able to do anything else. Your ringtone blasted through the empty kitchen and it pierced your ears unexpected, instilling in your nerves a hit of anxiety which caused your hand to hit the pan; it dropped inevitably off the stove, collapsed to the ground, poured its vermilion content on the luminous tiles. Dodging quickly enough not to have the pan falling on your feet, still hearing your phone ringing, your chest benched inward with a deep, exasperated sob, sharply taking in air to fill your shaky body with. Waves of tears ran down your eyes, arms still half-hanging in the void, as if you waited for someone to pick you up and nail you to a cross, to cease your unsubduable sense of betrayal. It all crushed down on you, eyes closed, stilling liquid sadness, which ricocheted between the walls of the emptiest and loneliest flat in the world. The phone stopped ringing. It seemed to calm you down at first; the silence left you with curiosity to see if the nightmare was over, opening your eyes back to the disastrous sauce on the floor, which was supposed to be ready for dinner. With caution, your trembling fingers grabbed the phone from the marble counter, and you jumped on your feet as it started buzzing and ringing against your skin once again. A name appeared, impressed on your retina. You couldn’t help but suffocate a sob: the grab on the phone tightened together with the clench wrenching your heart, making it as small as a crumble.

>>♥<<

«Charles…» He didn’t hesitate to take in your wandering hands, flinging towards him and holding onto his shirt. Right as he had read the news, he had reached out to you: for he had witnessed you breaking down because of Pierre too many times not to know you would, eventually, need a leaning shoulder. He wore the friend’s armor with the usual embarrassment of being both friend to you and to Pierre; he was used to balancing between two sides, trying not to pick one, working as a bridge to keep you walking in the same direction. Charles always felt helpless before your broken heart: he knew Pierre and how he would’ve never done anything to hurt you, but still, he had, undoubtedly, and there was no defense Charles himself could put up. Especially if he had you weeping and sobbing in his arms, so painfully close to his heart. «I can’t do this anymore, Charles.» «I know, y/n. I know.» He swallowed hard, caressing your hair, searching for comforting words even though he was damn aware there were none. «W-why? Where did I go wrong?» Charles’s heart panged at your words: he immediately took your face in his hands, wiped tears off it with both thumbs and silently hoped to find an answer. The truth is he hadn’t a single one of them. Glancing at you, Charles wished he hadn’t been excited and bubbly about the marriage as he had been; he had nurtured so much joy, watching the relationship timidly sail the month before the wedding. He had pictured you and Pierre being the couple everyone would envy, perhaps even building a family together. He had got enamored with the way your wedding dress fitted you, how the golden ring adorning your hand had lit up your smile and your complexion even more, how every piece seemed to be finally falling into place.

In a few weeks’ time, he had witnessed the cast away of hopes. Charles wanted to tell you Pierre would’ve never done anything like it, he would’ve sworn it, if only facts didn’t force him to question everything he presumed to be sure of. «I know you’ll hate me for it, but…» he tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear, «…we should know exactly what happened before judging him so harshly.» «Charles! Do you think I really want to know the details?» your chin twitched. «I don’t need to know where… how… and since when they started fucking.» Shaking your head while picturing the atrocious scenes in your head, you put a hand on your forehead, face dropping down, incapable of tolerating Charles’ eyes boring into yours with an awful mixture of pity and sorrow. «It disgusts me.» you said, even feeling your stomach upset. Charles watched you spit out hatred as he rubbed a hand on your upper arm, slightly squeezing it in reassurance. He was friend with both of you and wasn’t keen on the idea of losing either, nor choosing where to stand. Somehow, he couldn’t pick a side. «Don’t I deserve better? Don’t I deserve to be loved?» Charles looked at you sternly, almost scolding you for such a question. «No doubts you do.» he said, definitive. «But Pierre knows that too. Before being his wife, you’re his friend.» He placed his firm hands on both your arms, searching for eye contact as he kept addressing you with a gentle tone. «He’s always loved you and respected you, even if it might have been hard to notice.» «He’s never going to love me… He never will.»

You both stood in the hall of Charles’ suite: the silence wrapping the luxury furniture was punctuated by your quiet sobs, your shaking breath, the strenuous beating of your heart. The air was warm; it flushed your cheeks and Charles’ as well. After a more attentive look, his green eyes seemed dull and tired. The night was already projecting its dark shadow onto the sky, and it was the sign which put your soul into a state of guilt: right after Charles had called you, you had run to him without a single worry of disturbing him. You had left a mess in the kitchen. You hadn’t prepared the dinner Pierre had asked you for, like the perfect lovely wife you had been up until that moment would request you to. As much as you could try to hate him, a solid and unbreakable part of you held onto the hopeless love of him, never ending source of suffering, yet inevitable. At the thought of your condemnation, you sobbed and cried a little louder, pulling Charles’s shirt near you, defeated, exhausted, distraught.

>>♥<<

The quiet sound of clinking metal timidly reached you and awoke you; you stirred, onto the couch, feeling a bit sore from sleeping all night in the same position, cranked. The sun filtered through the curtains, lighting your cheek right as you got seated. The room seemed to wheel ‘round you, on and on: thoughts started racing the new circuit of your mind, lap after lap, causing you to shut your eyes and block the incessant flow which was making you dizzy. Putting memories in order, you recalled the events. You had spent the night at Charles’ place: he had offered you to sleep in his bed, but you had decided not to profit of his generosity. In the quiet darkness of the suite, you had thrown your phone on the carpet, nestling against the squared pillow, shying away any thought concerning Pierre. But you had failed and wondered, haunted, if he might have been searched for you. After all, you weren’t home, when he clearly expected you to be there. He might have noticed. Or maybe not. Perhaps he had been taken care of by that daddy’s girl; maybe he had left you a text saying he wasn’t coming home either, leaving you wasted and rotten together with your nicely cooked dinner. If only there was a dinner to see rotting ; the red liquid crusting on the kitchen tiles printed on your mind like a crime scene you wanted to forget. The idea of your house being empty crashed your insides and twisted them in helpless disappointment. Still sitting, you eyed the phone, lying backwards on the floor, turned off since last night. What was the point of switching it back only to be flooded with more rumors you would never be ready to face?

You then finally stood up in the middle of the living area, looking around you like a stranger, and followed the noise coming from the small kitchen. There you found Charles, jogging around the counters, attempting to cook. You checked the time on the clock hung up on the wall: Monday, 1:12 p.m. «Oh, finally! Good morning!» Charles chirped, interrupting the trance status you had swamped into. «Good morning. Are you cooking lunch?» you asked, getting closer to the stove. «Yep! Some pasta with pesto for lunch!» You gulped at the mention of food. «I just woke up, Charles… I don’t know if I want to eat so much for breakfast.» «I’m sure you’re going to be hungry as soon as you see my delicious plate.» he chuckled, right before quickly removing the lid to the pan which was about to overflow in white bubbles. Done with stirring up the water, he turned towards you, who were already seated at the table, and leaned his palms onto the marble behind him. «How do you feel?» he asked. You rubbed your temple. «Tired.» Charles sighed. «You should’ve slept in my bed and let me take the couch as I-» «I’m not tired physically, Cha’. I slept quite good.» He nodded to himself in silence, looking down. «I see.» You drowned in the white noise of the pan boiling and the kitchen fan filling the otherwise dead silence, mentally visualizing the blurry picture you had been shocked by. The dizziness grew stronger and a large, deep pit in your stomach opened like a black hole swallowing your feelings. «I’ll talk to him about it as soon as I see him.» You heard Charles’ voice, but didn’t listen, as the cooking water roaring against the steel was the sound you had tuned into, and it grew louder and louder, almost unbearable to your focused hearing. With a quick glance, you saw the white foam resurfacing behind Charle’s silhouette. «Charles, the pan!» you urged. «Oh, fuck!»

>>♥<<

You stared at the plate, keeping it at a distance ahead of you with your fingertips, listening to Charles’ chewing, which never seemed that loud. The chewing stopped, together with his fork clinking against the ceramic, and you felt his eyes fixed upon you. «You need to eat something, y/n.» «Sorry, Charles, I have a messed-up stomach… After all the things I read…» «I know, but please, just have a few bites.» Charles gently pushed the plate back near you. «I can’t see you like this.» It was meant to be an unheard thought, just above a whisper, but the kitchen was so silent you could listen to his breathing. The shining fork on the tablecloth, a small piece of penne pierced; half a bite. Eyes closed, and Pierre was still there. Maybe he hadn’t even texted you: he hadn’t wondered about you at all, but left without warning, completely indifferent to your absence. The invisible wall built brick after brick in the last two weeks suddenly turned gray and heavy, painfully present. Pierre would never love you. The fork crashed against the plate, hand covering your mouth; Charles raised his eyes and stopped his every movement to observe you once again. He saw you hesitantly get up from the chair, quite unsure about what was going on, until the air punched your stomach and caused it to fling upwards, together with all its content. With no time to reach the bathroom, panic building in your chest, you abruptly turned towards the sink behind you, fingers unable to stop the wave climbing up your throat.

Charles got up, as you intended hearing his chair screeching. Not quite sure about what was happening, he first let his arms raise up a bit only to be lowered back down, helpless, indecisive, confused; then he got near you, pulling your hair out of the way, trying not to feel grossed out by the scene. «’m sorry…» you mumbled, breathing through your nausea, hoping the worst had passed. «Are you okay?» he rushed. You shook your head in denial. «Y/n, what’s up?» Your marriage was in shambles after a couple of weeks only and an insufferable urge of hiding from the entire world pulsed like a drill in your head. «I don’t know, but I’ve kind of been feeling sick the last couple of days.» «Are you ill?» Charles sighed, sorry. To think he was lying in somebody’s arms, cuddling in someone else’s warm touch, careless enough to forget about your existence and your feelings, your ego so easily, paired up with the sudden shock and horror of throwing up in front of Charles, put you in the worst state of anxiety and despair. Then, the realization. A sly thought, slithering tantalizingly amidst your scattered mind. What if…? You gripped the counter so hard your knuckles turned pale, washed out, eyes wide opened and bewildered, in fright and disbelief. Your heart ran wild, as your thoughts did, while a sigh of hysteria and awareness triggered your cry.

Charles, who had opened the tap in the meantime and had handed you a piece of paper towel to clean yourself up, slowly put down his hand and frowned, disturbed by how exasperated you sounded. «Please, please, it cannot be… It can’t be true.» you chanted low and quick, but slow and high enough in tone for Charles to understand your words. «What can’t be?» Charles asked, searching for your attention and your eyes through your erratic movements: you rinsed your mouth with water, closed the tap and swiftly dried your face with the piece of paper he was still holding. You stared at him intensely, as much as he did: he immediately read the fear overwhelming you, but still failed to see the reason, which you hoped to be able to communicate without giving it form with words. A couple of seconds were shared in that exchange of terrified glances; and before he was able to say anything else, Charles looked at you pacing quickly to the couch, raising all the pillows in search of something. «Where’s my purse?» you asked, frenzy. «I- I don’t know!» «Did you see my wallet at least?!» You picked up your phone from the ground and pressed in hurry the switching on button, cursing as it took an insufferable amount of time to turn on. Charles stepped right behind you, glancing left and right, pondering your request quickly. «What do you need money for?» Charles shouted, set in panic by your erratic behaviour. With a swift turn, you stared at him once more, eaten alive by anxiety. «A pregnancy test.» You could hear his soundless breath of surprise as he left his mouth ajar, as well as his brain’s gears in motion, getting a grip of the situation. «You… You two…» You gave Charles a regretful and desperate stare, pleading him with your eyes not to judge you harshly for falling into Pierre’s trap, chin twitching, tears pricking your eyes. «It was our wedding night. I just… I just wanted to be happy.»

You broke down in tears before you could end the sentence, covering the face and the shame it displayed with your hands. Charles froze, trying to clear his mind and think of the next step he should take; your cries, though, only distracted him from doing so. «Y/n, hey, come here.» He carefully engulfed you in a hug, shushing you, in an attempt to calm you down. «I’m going to buy a test now, okay? Stay here, sit on the couch and relax. I’ll come back in a second.» The lightweight kiss he pressed onto your head as you plopped down onto the sofa, spent, felt distant and muffled, as much as the door closing shut behind his hurried figure. You stared into the void, replaying the night of the forbidden love over and over again, in search of any possible mistake you two made, to no avail: you had been so enchanted by Pierre and buzzed in bliss that the rerun became fader and fader, the memory even more distant, as if it were a mere fruit of imagination, as if you and Pierre had never been happy together. Before you could realize it, Charles was already flinging the door back open, pouring the content of the whitish plastic bag onto the table, unwrapping the test and placing it in your hand, closing your fingers shut around it.

«Okay, so… It says to hold the stick downwards, so maybe it’s better if we use a cup or something.» Charles opened a cabinet of the bathroom and took out a plastic cup, which he handed to you. «"If testing early, use first urine of the day"… Well, that’s perfect, because you’ve just woken up! “Don’t drink lots of liquid”, done as well… I think we’re good to go.» Sniffing, you stared at Charles, in wait. «W-why are you looking at me like that?» he nervously chuckled. «I need to pee.» «Right!» He immediately rushed out of the bathroom, pressing his lips together in embarrassment.

He leaned against the door, impatiently waiting for you to signal to him to enter back again, which you didn’t. After a couple of minutes, Charles knocked, not able to bear any more silence. «Y/n? Can I come in now?» No answer. Charles put his ear against the varnished wood, trying to capture any sound, knocking once again. He got startled by a sudden yelp echoing from inside the bathroom. «Y/n?» Charles was about to put his hand on the knob, when he heard the lock being sealed under his helplessly slow fingers, which vainly tested the knob in a rush, too late. «Y/n? Please, open the door!» As if it weren’t enough, his phone started ringing and buzzing in his pocket: moving a couple of steps away from the door with a loud sigh, he was struck by the caller. «Pierre?» His name pierced your ears like the tick of a bomb: the pregnancy test in your trembling fingers, you bore your stare into the bright lines signalling the positivity of it. A child. Pierre had just cheated on you and, of all the moments, the pregnancy news had sprung at the most inconvenient time. «Have you heard from y/n? Do you know where she is? I’ve been trying to reach out to her, but she doesn’t answer.» «Yes, she is…» Charles swallowed hard and glanced at the wooden door, still perfectly closed and sealed. «She’s here with me, at my place.» «Oh, thank God. How is she?» «What?» Charles almost choked at Pierre’s enquiry. The thought of your benching figure throwing up in his sink was still vivid and his shirt was somehow slightly damp and stretched. Pierre sighed. «She trusted the news, I suppose…» Charles’ end fell silent for seconds, in which he stared at the door opening and showing your silhouette marked with tears, emotionless, holding the pregnancy test upwards so that he saw the result right as you stepped close to him. «I’m coming over. Don’t let her go, okay? See you soon.» Pierre concluded, impatient. «Bye.» You both stood in silence, thoughts taking over the room. «How can I raise a baby without a father?» The sudden question melted Charles’ heart. «Y/n, it’s going to have a father: Pierre would never leave you alone, even if you two weren’t married and the child weren’t his.» «But I don’t need him as an uncle, I need him as a father and a husband who’s present and loves us both!» To that, Charles couldn’t answer anything: he couldn’t swear Pierre’s love for you, it wasn’t in his power, though he would’ve liked to reassure you in any way possible. He hugged you for the umpteenth time, cradling your never-ending weeping self, mentally uncovering the weight of tragedy: not only you might be hurt by Pierre refusing your affection, but preferring someone else’s physical, carnal company. Discarded, thrown away like a valueless thing, having to face one of the biggest challenges of a woman’s life without the certainty of support from the man you loved.

Charles noticed a swelling point near his heart, tormented by the whole situation, which soon turned into utter panic as you twisted abruptly into his arms, startled by a loud knocking on the door. «Who’s that?» you asked, holding the pregnancy test to your chest and looking around, trembling and confused. Some other knocks thundering through the suite. «Charles! Open the door!» You daggered your eyes to the Monegasque, torn between utter terror and betrayal: why had he made him come over when he was supposed to keep you safe from the whole world, especially from Pierre’s cruelty? Charles stared at you, motionless, waiting for you to make the first move and implicitly give him the consent to unlock the door. «He cannot know.» you stated, attempting to sound firm, and failing to conceal panic. «But-» «You owe me this, for allowing him to come here in the first place. Don’t you dare to say a word about it.» Charles shook his head, eyes full of disapproval yet showing pity; then, without adding any other word, he watched you fiddle with the pregnancy test to hide it beneath your shirt and approached the door to let Pierre in. «Where is she?» Pierre urged, hurried. Your sitting silhouette towered on the couch right in front of him: your profile contrasted the long curtains of the living room and the pale, greyish tones of the weather outside casted on your skin a livid, gloomy shadow. He knelt down before you, trying to get your eyes to look at his, but he was met with the deadliest still stare he had ever seen: your glossy irises worked as a push for his hand to reach and stroke your cheek, but you shied away his touch. «Can you leave us alone for a few minutes, Charles?» The Monegasque mumbled a “Sure” under his breath, drained by the whole situation.

Pierre never stopped observing you with attention, which cost you a lot of effort into not locking gaze with him; and when you finally did, a clench of rage shut your jaw, annoyed by his behaviour. «Aren’t you tired?» «Tired of what?» you spitted out. «Of consuming yourself after a false accusation.» You reluctantly strayed away your eyes from him once again, unluckily charmed by his proximity. «But you’re not consumed, right? You expected it from me, you were waiting for me to make a mistake, weren’t you?» he sarcastically added. «You swore you would love me and trust me until the end of your life, but you didn’t hesitate to buy into whatever lie someone spread to ruin my reputation once again!» «Your reputation! Always your fucking reputation first! And what about mine? Don’t you care about how people will think of me from now on?» «I’m not saying I don’t care, I want to point out the fact that some bastard sold the news on purpose to damage me!» «I don’t give a shit about who did that, you cheated on me!» «I DID NOT! For fuck’s sake, this is what I’m trying to tell you! Someone took an out-of-context picture at a dinner where photographers weren’t allowed to try to ruin me and our relationship as well! Are you so stupid to fall for it too?»

At this point, you were crying without containing anymore; after the heated altercation, you stopped and felt your chest sting with hurt pride and feelings. «I’m stupid for having fallen in love with you since the day I met you.» Your words seemed to stun Pierre: his lips had parted in surprise at your confession, as much as his eyelids had uncovered completely the majestic blue eyes now bored into yours. The silence which followed your unwanted declaration made you curl into a ball, sobbing loudly to yourself. As soon as you felt a pair of arms embracing you, you fought back to avoid them with little whines and cries, only to be defeated by its comforting warmth: you let Pierre seal your bubble of despair, like a shield. «I’ll prove to you I did nothing, y/n, I promise. Nobody should’ve dared to write about us the way they did.» What Pierre reckoned to be soothing words weren’t reassuring to your ears at all: the missed reaction to your hopeless love for him fuelled your fears concerning the buried, but growing life in your womb. How could a child live without love? How could you? A sudden wave of nausea made you break the embrace Pierre had engulfed you in, bringing a hand over your mouth yet another time, eyes shut. «Don’t you feel good? What’s wrong?» he unconsciously put his hand on your thigh, affectionately squeezing it, as he asked. «I cooked some pasta and it tasted awful. My fault.» You quickly glanced at Charles, who had rejoined the room, getting near the couch. His stare on you was stern and tender at the same time, communicating both his blame and his will to help you cover up the pregnancy, for the moment, at least. «You’ll never learn how to cook, right?» Pierre snorted. «Probably not.» Charles huffed a smile, happy to have brightened the mood of the room a tiny bit. «I’m a bit hungry, though. Got anything in the pantries?» Pierre asked. «I’ll go check!»

While Charles walked away and left you alone once more, you sniffed and dried your cheeks, gazing down, looking away from Pierre’s burning and suddenly careful stare. «I called you a thousand times yesterday.» he spoke low, as not to be heard. You shook your head, smally. «I think you know why my phone was switched off.» «I came back home and I saw the mess in the kitchen.» he ignored your words. «What? Were you disappointed about not having dinner served?» Pierre pressed his lips together, holding back the quick answer rolling off his tongue. And then he decided to let it out. «I was worried about you.» No, he wasn’t, you told yourself. He’s trying to fool me. Still, the heartfelt tone he used to deliver the sentence rose a commotion deep in your soul: the gentle chords of golden love vibrating for him only were put in restless motion at the sound of the confession. It was just so small, but your entire feelings could feast with it for months, for years, after bearing starvation for as long. «I’ve already talked with my lawyer to sue the journalists and the source of the rumour for defamation.» he caressed your cheek, slowly, as not to startle you with the touch. «I won’t let anyone come between us. Soon it’ll be again just you and me, only us.»

As much as you would’ve liked to trust his whispered words, soft as you had never heard him talk ever before, your choked lie laid untold and yet high like a wall in the room. Pierre leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, fingers still lingering over your face. Flushing your eyelids down, you recalled the same tenderness being offered to you on other occasions, too short to your liking, too faintly impressed in the memory’s film, too brutally in contrast with the bittersweet tumult raging inside of you. «I need you by my side.» Maybe you had imagined it, as it left Pierre’s lips lighter than a whisper; or, maybe, it was the first time you had witnessed some kind of fragility and sweetness in him, just so that you could fall for him even deeper and harder.

The following days, the tension you anticipated to lay between you and Pierre was replaced by a layer of anguish and plainness, wrapping you like a wet, cold cover: the pregnancy test you had hidden carefully haunted your thoughts throughout the day, making you insensitive to Pierre’s attempts at building back again a sense of familiarity, and kept you awake at night, gripping the sheets tight, shaking away the loneliness of the present and of the future.

You knew you didn’t have much time before being forced to tell Pierre: but you had never been as scared to lose him as you were, walking side by side into the paddock, sitting on a stool in the garage, avoiding your husband’s stare while he kissed your cheek, gentle. The weight of your mind drew your gaze down, to the floor. «It’s so cold in here, isn’t it?» You peeked upward at Esteban entering the garage, rubbing his arms as to shake them up from coldness; to be fair, Texas’ air was far from cold, and you struggled interpreting his sardonic smile. Pierre turned around to throw an annoyed look at him, as he gathered the upper part of the suit higher to zip it up. Having gained both of your attention, Esteban fixed his eyes on you, in mischief. «It’s so sad to see a couple being so distant and cold to each other…» You frowned, surprised by the unusual tone of his voice and the sparkle of malice shimmering on his features. Esteban tilted his head, still looking at you, his expression now turning to an unbearable shade of pity, masked by a sinister grin. «Poor y/n… I had told you Pierre would mess up.» «It’s none of your business, you don’t know a fuck!» Pierre shouted, crossing the garage to face him directly. «And stop addressing her like you’ve known her forever.» he added in a lower tone, threatening. Esteban glanced at you back again, letting out an amused scoff. «Didn’t you ever tell him?» «Stop talking to her! Take it out on me and leave her out of this!» The increasing tone of Pierre’s voice, as well as Esteban’s cornering words, made you stand up from the seat and left your mouth dry like the desert, no chance to reply. «Pierre, she can decide on her own if she wants to talk with me or not, you don’t control her. Is he always acting like that with people getting close to you?» Pierre, of course, anticipated your reactionless self. «No, only with dickheads like you! Fuck yourself and don’t get near to her!» «Isn’t it a bit pretentious for someone who cheated on his wife?» The sentence sorted the effect Esteban clearly was expecting: Pierre’s fingers gripped his suit tight, pushing him a few steps backwards due to the threatening force he used. «IT WAS YOU! You made the picture, you were there!» «Pierre, please…» your voice, shaky and feeble, made Esteban laugh. «Stop fucking laughing! Who gave you the right to ruin both our lives?!» «Oh, trust me, Pierre, if I wanted to ruin her, I had a far more interesting story… Which I think you should hear.» With one, fierce shrug, he got rid of Pierre’s tight grab, pointing his eyes back at you. «I was her boyfriend, back in high school, when you used to hang all out together with Charles.» You stood lifeless, dreading the moment Pierre would turn to give you a disappointed or maybe even mad look; but he didn’t. Esteban kept going. «You’ve always had her on your tail, but you never noticed she was in love with you… I’ve never seen anyone more pathetic.» he let out a snort. «She had so little self-respect to let me take her virginity away in a club’s bathroom… She used me like a fuck-toy and then discarded me. This is the girl you married.»

The whole garage fell silent, since nobody dared to interrupt the helpless flow of words. An involuntary yell escaped your lips as Pierre ferociously crashed Esteban’s back onto the back wall, finally getting a reaction from the mechanics and engineers, trying to get in between the two to separate them. Pierre was screaming in French, at the top of his lungs, defending you – unbeknownst to you; Esteban simply stood without reacting much, as he had done years earlier at the same physical attack he had experienced, but this time his revenge was consumed. He knew he had won after hearing Pierre shouting it was over; seeing him approaching you with big strides and hugging you, leaving the box without uttering any other word. Reading your expression on the verge of crying, a sick pleasure overtook him. He had won the war.

«Cheers, les gars!» «Cheers!» Amongst the choir of glasses jingling, toasting in delight, you raised yours without being able to reach everyone’s cup, then obliged to set your eyes on the non-alcoholic beverage you had ordered. You had received numerous side-eyed glances and mocking exclamations for even daring to ask for a banal juice on the celebration night of Pierre’s new contract with Aston Martin, which came after the unexpected departure of Lance. «Someone will have to drive us home tonight, and I don’t think Pierre is going to spare himself…» you half-joked, as an excuse. Everyone bought it with a loud chuckle, except for Charles, who didn’t miss any of your movements, bearing the incommensurable weight of truth on his chest.

He had been texting you quite a lot in the last few days: you had informed him of the explosive moments lived inside Alpine’s garage, ultimately leading to Pierre signing with Aston for next year; he had asked you, in turn, how things were now going with Pierre, if you trusted his version of the story. A few nights earlier, while reading Charles’ texts, you had looked down at Pierre, who was peacefully heaving against your chest. You couldn’t tell whether he had fallen asleep to the soothing head scratches you had been giving him since you had snuggled on the bed, as silence and quietness lingered in the air. “Did you tell him?” Pierre’s arm encircled your waist, radiating warmth all throughout your core: it served as another subtle reminder of the news yet to be shared. Though, you had never felt more terrified: it was the first time in years that you perceived Pierre’s affection being that close. Announcing the pregnancy might have taken away the precious blossom of his love, which you now couldn’t live without. Charles knew your fear, he could read it well between the lines, and he hoped you would soon rely on Pierre to get the support you’d need.

Drinking plain juice didn’t prevent you from joining friends on the dance floor, gripping handfuls of hair and shaking it to the thick, hot air of the club. Standing still at the edge of the crowd, sipping on a cocktail with eyes fixed on the group – on you, mainly – Charles and Pierre talked, undisturbed. «What are you looking at?» the Monegasque asked with a smirk. Pierre didn’t answer, he didn’t stray his irises from your dancing silhouette, drowning and resurfacing in the crowd. «She’s beautiful.» «As if you haven’t been telling me this for the past ten years, Pierre.» Charles chuckled, taking a sip from his own drink. «It’s different, now.» «How so?» Pierre hesitated before answering, gathering the right words to express his muted feelings. «Last Monday, when I came back home and I couldn’t find her, I freaked out as I’ve never done before. I called her twenty-five times, left a fucking voicemail – who does that anymore? I just didn’t know what to do, I was panicking. I slept on the couch thinking she’d wake me up after coming back at night.» «I should’ve warned you she was with me, sorry.» Pierre lightly shook his head. «No, I think I deserved that, for all the times I treated her bad.» After a small pause, Charles, frowning, prompted another question. «So what’s changed?» «I… I’m falling in love with her.» he breathed out in realization, enchanted by your vision, watching you move like a fairy amongst the large group of his friends enjoying the blasting music. Charles couldn’t stop himself from snorting and laughing. «What?» «That’s a lie.» Pierre looked at him puzzled; Charles took another sip, smiling in delight and amusement. «You’ve always loved her; but you didn’t know what love was yet.» «Said the philosopher!» Their laughter was so bright and loud that you turned your head towards the two of them patting each other friendly. Pierre’s features were painted in deep, rich warm tones, under the dim lights of the club; the sudden need to refuge in his arms and rest your lips on his draw your eyes to him like an undefeatable magnet, whose force he seemed to feel as well. «I think I know now.» Pierre said, gaze turned back again on you.

>>♥<<

Exiting the bathroom, you saw Charles waiting right near the door frame, arms crossed, distressed expression, wetting his dry lips as soon as you got near him. «Is it all good?» he asked. «Jeez, Charles! Can’t I just go to the bathroom now?» «You ran away at the speed of light! Pierre was confused and I had to stop him from following you.» Sighing, you quickly rubbed your temples. «Listen… I don’t like lying to Pierre. You need to tell him, y/n, he has to know.» His pleading voice twisted your stomach in a pang of regret and fear. «I want to see a doctor first… And I need to come back home for that.» «Why don’t you try with a clinic here?» You darted your eyes at Charles, half in disbelief, half surprised at the idea. «I can help you find one, I’ve got some contacts. Plus, I think you should check as soon as possible if everything’s okay with…» «With me, yes.» you breathed out, feeling Pierre’s heavy stare on you both. Before you knew it, he was making his way amidst the crowd with a frown, seeing you and Charles confabulate away from indiscreet ears. «He’s coming.» you whispered. Charles, visibly frustrated and failing to hide it, huffed and waited for the storm to run over both of you. And it came. Pierre’s body was burning a few centimeters away from you, igniting shame and terror, knowing you were putting the newfound trust on the line, like a fool. But it isn’t your fault, a part of you said. «Why did you stop? I want to hear about the State affair too.» Not willing to test Charles’ trust for the umpteenth time, you jumped in before he could add anything to his deadly stare directed towards Pierre. «I was telling him I’m tired and I’d like to go home, but he thinks we should stay here a bit more since we’re celebrating you.» A soft caress of his palm was enough to melt the hurried tension entangling your muscles, sure he had bought into the lie after seeing a veil of fondness cover his blue eyes. «Oh, don’t worry, I was thinking of calling it a day too. We can always party more than once, after all.»

>>♥<<

The shirts had slipped away swiftly in a matter of seconds, as your shivering skin warned your senses. You kissed in passion, somehow already accustomed to each other’s pace, yet so new and undiscovered beneath the physical layer of quickened breaths, intense heartbeats and roaming hands. Pierre dragged your head up with his long lasting, tantalizing kiss, trapping both your wrists with a smirk which spread further blush on your cheeks. «So that piece of douchebag was your first time?» He didn’t seem to wait for an answer, as he leaned down to your neck, tasting your skin open-mouthed. You simply moaned, incapable of uttering a word. It was the first time he enquired you about the awful talk you had had in the garage with Esteban and, noticing the unexpected silence on the topic for days, you had simply guessed he would never tackle it again. Still, getting drunk had probably loosen him up more than he would ever admit. «Pierre…» «What? I’m just curious.» «I don’t want to be reminded of that day.» you whined, already out of breath. Mischief gleamed in Pierre’s blue irises, pupils enlarged to take in as much of you as they could. You were able to interpret his intentions a few seconds after his stare: he buried his face behind your earlobe, teasing your skin with his teeth, just enough to gather a shot of blood cursing pleasure and electricity with its flow right where he was leaving kisses. «Is it because you don’t feel… proud of yourself?» he murmured against your neck. Guilt tangled in the middle of your chest, words and acts painfully reminding you of the infamous night. Only after years, you could realize how despicable and poor your choice had been; though, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame it. After all, it had led you to embracing Pierre as close as you would’ve never even imagined in your wildest fantasies. «Is it because you think you acted selfishly?» A sweet yet poisonous bite was left just above your collarbone, another soft breath escaping your control. «Because you hurt people around you?» Now Pierre looked hungrily at you, halting just a few centimeters from your parted lips, letting your focus drift towards his quick hands unbuttoning your jeans, as if they didn’t know any better. The stormy meaning hidden behind those words seemed senseless to you, impossible: and still his irises showed turmoil… Hurt. You were almost about to mouth a question, something along the lines of “What do you mean?”, maybe you even did; but you couldn’t tell, because Pierre thrusted his body upon yours all of a sudden, diluting your thoughts in a stain of useless reasoning, moans and whimpers the only incoherent reactions. «Is it because… you wished you were with someone else?» The floodgate of your heart crushed open: it rocked your body in such an intense wave that you had to hold onto Pierre, gripping his shoulders tight, while he kissed down on your neck once again, lavishly, anywhere he could print his love on you.

Overwhelm of senses almost ended up in a gracious state of numbness, in which Pierre seemed to be the only actor: he handled you with ease and carefulness, though intoxicated by the physical contact, and before you had realized, the night was consumed, the abatjour casting a gentle warm shade on your bare, entangled bodies. Drunk in love, you chuckled in silence, warmed by Pierre’s touch. «What’s that?» he asked. «I… When I’m with you, I feel both anxious and so happy I could die.» «Why is it funny?» «Because it’s childish. I’m still crushing on you like a kid, I only know extremes.» He hummed, pausing for a few seconds. «Why do I make you nervous?» he then enquired, again. «Because I’m scared to lose you.» It sounded so fragile that Pierre involuntarily tightened his arms around you, drawing you nearer. And deep in thought, he stared at the void. «I think I know how you feel.» «What?» you turned your head around to look at him, as if you hadn’t paid attention to his words. «I’ve felt this way too, since… forever.»

>>♥<<

The faint sound of fingers typing filled the kitchen, otherwise silent. You had woken up early, after rolling in the sheets for hours, not sleeping much; you had had a little bit of breakfast – as much as your upset stomach would allow you to – while you scrolled the online page of one of the clinics Charles had suggested you, searching for a cell phone number. You stopped, engraving the digits in your mind. If you had dialed, a spiral of appointments’ calls, check-ups and exams would follow, and you wouldn’t have been able to stop it from tumbling and assaulting you. Pierre would know soon. The mere thought scared you to death. As you saw Pierre's ruffled hair and creased eyes peeked out inside the kitchen area only to direct the slow and unsteady steps towards the bathroom, you bolted as fast as a lighting. «No, the bathroom is mine!» You stomped the door in front of his face, preventing him from stealing the precious space and time to clean yourself.

Pierre quickly eyed the laptop on the marble counter, figuring out you must've been up for quite a while; a stained mug and tiny crumbles were other signals of your silent presence, lingering around his numbed senses through the waking. He had missed the warmth of your body, the securing hold of his arms around your waist, the sweet scent cursing through him while resting his head close to yours, near enough to perceive the undeniable pull drawing him like a magnet. «You're lucky I love you!» he yelled, in order for you to drink in his amused tone. You wished you didn't. That only sentence made your guts twist and horribly enhanced the dizziness, obliging you to grip the sink tight. You had waited so many years for those words to have a meaning and now you might have it. Still, you found yourself to dread them. You were about to ruin everything.

He had not intended to; he had tried, vainly, to stop himself from looking at the screen of your laptop, but the gaze dropped involuntarily, fast, the quickest glance, while placing the mug on the counter. And the first words he read only invited him to linger on the page further. A clinic. A phone number written in bold cyphers. «Y/n?» Resurfacing from the trance status you had fallen into while lazily brushing your teeth, you answered with a whine. «Can you come here for a sec?» You deeply inhaled in annoyance, sure it was either to pull a prank on you or to get some help with the absurdly expensive coffee machine Pierre had asked for in the suite - and didn't quite know how to use yet. The puzzled look on his face told you right away all you needed, as much as his fingers brushing the laptop’s pointer pad. «Why were you searching-» «Why are you going through my stuff!?» You flung yourself onto the pc, pulling it away from his touch and his sight, hoping that could be enough to erase the content from his thoughts. As you imagined, it didn't. «What's that for? You left it spread open, how was I supposed not to see it?» Pierre followed your gushing figure placing the laptop back in the bedroom, closing the door after you two. «Can you please stop a second and explain to me what's going on?» Your body seemed to slip under Pierre's touch, then ultimately gave in, anxiety paralyzing all movements but trembling. Immediately noticing your distress, he stroked your hair in reassurance, trying to calm himself down as well through the action. «Y/n, I'm not asking again. What's the clinic for?» You avoided his stare as much as answering. «Did something happen? I need to know, y/n.» he wetted his lips, visibly frustrated. «It isn't just you, now. It's both of us. We're in this together.» After minutes spent crafting the most realistic lie, painfully witnessing Pierre being tender and caring only to be fooled by you, you were finally ready to utter a word. «I had booked a routine appointment with a gynecologist before I knew about the trip, but we aren't getting home soon, and I didn't want to miss it.» Pierre's forehead distended like a folded sheet laid spread and fresh onto the mattress, irises still concealing a hint of doubt. «Why didn't you tell me?» «I thought it'd be embarrassing… for both.» «It isn't to me.» he said, softly. «And you can talk to me about anything, you know that.» You rested your cheek upon his palm, enjoying the caress with eyes closed, quietly accepting the lie still holding up the invisible wall of miscommunication you purposely built. «Especially when the topic is dear to me.» Pierre's smug tone lifted a stone from your shoulders, as well as dropping it in your chest, heart swimming in a lake of mixed emotions. You would’ve liked to cast a spell and stop the flow of time, because bittersweet guilt and happiness were the telltale signs a fairytale was possible, after all, almost within reach. And you had ruined it.

>>♥<<

A thought had been flying around his mind all day: jogging lightly before free practice, revising the track with his performance engineer, laughing and joking around with other drivers ahead of media duties. It hadn't bothered him, it hadn't shown; not even when he came back to the hotel and didn't find you there as he expected. It slipped from his consciousness even while drifting into sleep, your scent dazzling and lulling him. It harboured beneath the surface, though, and its stealth presence made itself evident - yet misunderstood - on Saturday morning. «Where's my shirt?» Pierre asked abruptly, entering the bedroom in a hurry. Despite him trying to get you to get up multiple times as he got ready, you were still lying in bed, sick to the core, unwilling to admit it, exhausted already by the day. «Y/n, c'mon, we need to go!» Pierre huffed, poorly concealing the annoyance. You whined, weakly raising the duvet in order to get seated. Before Pierre could snort again and feel even more dissatisfied with the sudden lack of energy you showed, he hesitated on your dark eyebags, on the slow movement you dragged your limbs with, on the aura of fatigue encircling you. He stepped closer, taking your arms and lifting you up, guiding you to the kitchen steadily, but still rather quickly. As you took a seat, he placed before you an amount of food – for breakfast – which you would've always considered sufficient and that now seemed exaggerated. «If you're not hungry, drink at least. You need to keep hydrated.» Pierre's demanding voice partially saved you from the impasse of refusing food, so you obligingly sipped the cup of coffee he had pushed towards you without adding a word.

From that moment onwards, Pierre eyed you with a carefulness unknown before. He only realized now how sluggish and overall low-key you had been behaving: though, the restless rhythm of flights, hotel check-ins, suits packing and racing sessions were draining enough to present themselves as valid reasons for your lack of verve. Taking your purse underarm in a hurry, you crossed eyes with Pierre’s. «I’m ready, let’s go.» Dumbfounded by his sudden aplomb, you stood in silence, hair barely brushed, shirt carelessly half untucked in your jeans; you didn’t stray your stare from Pierre’s while he slowly took your hands in his, a strange thoughtfulness guiding the movement. The silence said more than you two were capable of. It seemed to be thrown back in time to those longing, perusing stares you studied each other with, always analyzing expressions and reactions, never sure of getting it right yet desperately needy of the other. You both swam comfortably in that tacit conversation, exchanging fears, doubts, loving care; but Pierre knew it was time to go – it had been for a while, already – and couldn’t restrain himself from clearing his throat. «Yep, I told you. Let’s go.» you whispered.

>>♥<<

It had been Charles' idea, to have a brunch all together inside the paddock: he had found a small sort of restaurant, right in front of Pirelli's backdoor, unfrequented by VIPs and paparazzi. If you didn't know Charles well enough, you would've guessed he simply wanted to check on you; but him craving some good old company and wanting to shy away from the crowd of the track was the most likely scenario. Hanging out together, the three of you, felt like a fever dream, every single time: the memories would merge, the jokes and the laughs would crack on their own with such a flow and an ease unexplainable to anybody else. Sitting next to the most important people of your life was a luck you would never take for granted. «…should buy one. What do you think?» «I think that’s awesome, really.» You became self-conscious of the wedding ring pressing Pierre’s name onto your skin as an endless kiss, recalling the ebbing moments of the day you became one. «Y/n?» Again. The wave knocking at the pit of your stomach, the sudden harmony of smells emanated by your dishes was quick to stir your quiescent sickness. «Y/n? Did you hear the question?» Charles’ voice obliged you to answer. «Uh? Yeah, yes, I did.» you composed yourself as quickly as you could. «I think it’s a beautiful opportunity for you.» «We’ll help you, if we can do anything for it. Like, if you need taste testers, we’re more than happy!» Pierre chuckled. You forced a smile too, in order not to contrast your husband’s bright expression. However, it all spiraled when a pile of used tires – the F3 free practice had finished less than a half an hour earlier, you reasoned – was dragged in a small interstice near Pirelli's building, leaving an unbearable smell of burned rubber. You felt yet again nauseous, making it blatantly obvious clasping your mouth and nose, focusing on your breathing, eyes closed. Pierre and Charles' stares laid on you in a single motion, both catching on what was happening (with different awareness, clearly). Pierre couldn't let the memory of your missed breakfast fade into nothing, and his racing mind quickly figured you must be ill; he trapped your free hand in a grab which you immediately complied, he got up and kneeled next to you, seeing you didn't give any signs of the clench in your stomach loosening.

In the meantime, Charles quietly and politely asked you if you needed a glass of water, if you'd want to go to the restroom, to which your silence only fueled his helplessness and sly embarrassment. «I'm okay, guys.» you breathed out, finally removing your fingers from your lips, but still too scared to open your eyelids and be attacked by their sharp stares. «No, you're not, y/n. You've been sick for at least a week.» Pierre's statement worked as a tymbal clang to both you and Charles, so that you looked at each other briefly but intensely, wondering whether the ticking bomb laying untold amongst you three had just exploded without you noticing. “Tell him” was painted in capital letters, bold, inside Charles' green irises.

Internalizing the truth impossible to fool, you let Pierre's fingertips gently move your chin towards him, since you had enchanted in reflection on Charles. Suddenly confronting your husband's – yes, because he was your husband – unexplainable beauty like it was the first time you really saw him, the news seemed to brim out your lips, overflowing with contrasting emotions you weren't able to conciliate. Gathering all your courage despite the trembling of your chin, you reciprocated the hold of Pierre's hands: it was building up, from your chest up to the throat, bypassing the rationality check. «I need to tell you something.» It was nothing but a whisper; Charles, unknowing to either you or Pierre, slowly got up from his chair, standing near you and placing his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it for comfort. Pierre waited in silence for your words, pupils scattered all around your features trying to get the smallest hint of which nature the news was. The tears pricked your eyes as soon as the thought hit your synapsis. «I'm pregnant, Pierre.» Releasing the pent-up distress, finally relieved by the burden of secrecy, you cried freely, ready to face the consequences of the news.

A part of you expected an endless chain of angry sentences and despair, complaints, immaturity. And the part of you who didn't expect such a reaction, or at least hoped for a better outcome without much conviction, still managed to astonish before the taken aback but sweet curve of Pierre's eyebrows, unbelievably moved by your words. «Really? Are you sure?» His mistrust annoyed you slightly and made you scoff through tears. But before you could answer with a snappy remark, he was all over you, hugging your sadness away, melting in an embrace that swiped bad omens, that dissolved the clouds of doubt in a sparkling, bubbly dust of relief. Pierre left a long peck on your forehead, which only freed tears from running ceaselessly. «I can't believe it…» he whispered out of an uncontainable smile. Your body and soul, both in shock from experiencing the most releasing happiness, trembled like leaves under the wind of Pierre's affection. He glanced at Charles, looking for confirmation, which he found expressed through the dimples of his best friend; then focused back again on you, whose reaction Pierre couldn't quite make out. «You're happy, right?» he asked, almost fearful of the answer. Sobbing a laugh, you leaned against his hand cupping your cheek and enveloped it with yours, fond. «Of course I am.» He paused, taking a full look at you in excitement and amazement, letting the thought settle in his heart. «When did you find out?» he asked, cupping your cheek as a fragile corolla of petals. Your mouth dried out, your throat was still knotted; thankfully Charles beat you on time in answering. «Almost two weeks ago.» You waited for it, you anticipated the hatred and the – righteous – disappointment in getting to know that his best friend had witnessed and received the news first. Fear invested you once again, through sobs and hiccups. «Y/n… Look at me.» It all seemed to down on you at once: sat in your weakness, you had disclosed all your cards and were now the most vulnerable you’d ever been with him. Not even when you had promised in front of your families to love him for the rest of your life, not even lying in his embrace and cuddling with him after breathing out affection and pleasure on top of each other’s skin; no rejection could hurt you more than now, while carrying two lives inside of one body, two souls, doubling the sorrow. His serious demeanour only spiked up your anxiety, as you realized you weren’t ready at all, neither emotionally nor mentally, to face him yet.

He shut his eyes closed, he prepared himself to talk; you braced yourself for the impact of the cruel reality. It had been fun, until it had lasted. This is no fairytale, you chanted to yourself, lulling your crying soul. «I love you.» You looked at him dumbfounded, waiting for the answer to be completed with a "like a friend", or something of the sort which would've stabbed your heart with pain as he would always do; but a peaceful silence followed his words, and the longer you stared at each other, the deeper the realization would set in your heart. The promise you had been waiting for since the day you had met Pierre, which you expected to hear at the altar, was now vowed to you, him still kneeled down. «When…?» you involuntarily voiced your reasoning, not able to make sense of it, caught by total surprise. «Since forever. It just took me a while to realize…», he then glanced at Charles. «… and the help of a friend.» Spontaneously, you flung your arms around him, heart aching in joy and bliss. You watered and creased Pierre’s shirt, feeling life flourish just by listening to his words; to seal them, he plastered a kiss on your reddish, smooth lips, and heaven reached earth. «A baby, uh?» Pierre said almost to himself, placing his spread hands on your belly. You couldn’t help but have eyes brimming with emotion, gently brushing with your fingers his: was there anything which could make you happier and more strongly bonded together? «Charles… I think we’ll need plenty of your ice-cream in the near future.» «Hey!» you patted Pierre’s shoulder, amusingly offended. «Oh, for sure. I’ll make you a discount, since you’ll buy it in large quantity.» «Guys!» you laughed, trying to stop their endless flow of jokes. With your left hand still pressed onto Pierre’s, you gazed down at your wedding ring, shining and glimmering under the sunlight. Maybe, no matter how unhoped and unplanned, yours was truly a fairytale.

to @gaslysainz: Thanks again for the request! I really hope you’ll like it…I’m not fully satisfied with how it turned out, but I couldn’t work on it any further 😂 I’d be glad to know what you think 🥹❤️

AND TO ALL OF YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND FOR BEING PATIENT! I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

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[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Four: Charles is confused

Max verstappen x lando Norris x Charles Leclerc x reader

Chapter summary: Charles leclerc has always known he's weird. Maybe it takes someone just as weird as him to discover he's not alone.

Warnings: Reader discovers sexuality is a thing, almost a car crash, injury description, allusions to past abuse

Notes: Yay! Charles content! This chapter is wicked long, btw. I got carried away... oops.

Previous <-

Masterlist

Charles Leclerc had always known he was different. He just got a confirmation during his rookie season with Sauber.

He tried to keep his head down and show his talent, yet things never went to plan.

He was glad to be racing with Max again. His rival until Max practically flew up the ranks and Charles was stuck moving at the same speed he always had. Far to slow for his liking.

Now he’d achieved his dream. It’s 2019 and he’s driving for Ferrari alongside Sebastian vettel.

Everything seemed to be okay for now. Aside from his weird attraction to his stupid rival and his girlfriend who spent majority of her time in the Ferrari garage.

He noticed it last year and made it a point to stay as far away as possible from them. And for some reason it felt like fate was laughing at him because he always ran into the two.

Awkward. Stumbling. Stuttering.

He hated himself for this. He hated that he couldn’t just be normal. Fall for someone he actually had a chance with. Not the two most taken people in the paddock.

It didn’t help the Pierre constantly talked his ear off about them. Complaining that Max never shuts up about her. A lovely nail in the coffin.

Now at Ferrari he spent so much time around her that he was mentally hitting his head on a rock.

She’s weird and doesn’t get human interactions sometimes. She literally talks about the car all the time. She’s told him a few times what the strategy should be and not to listen to Xavi. Somehow she always knows what advice he’s going to need for a race.

Max, on the other hand, was something he’d not expected. It came out of nowhere during his teenage years. They’ve known each their for so long and yet Charles had yet to hold a semi decent conversation with him.

Max is a good driver and everyone knows it. He’d blamed it on respect at first but now they are 20 and Charles can’t help but memorize every stupidly little detail about him.

He determined that he must be mentally I’ll. Or bisexual. Or both.

“Your eyes are going to get stuck if you keep staring like that.” Teases Sebastian. Charles hadn’t even realized he’d zoned in on the happy could. Max dancing poorly with her to some imaginary music. He just moves he’s eyes to the table. Hoping the German doesn’t think much about it.

“Why so glum?” Asks the older male. Charles sucks in through his teeth. He definitely doesn’t want to explain that he’s attracted to both his daughter and her boyfriend. He’d probably thing he was crazy.

“Jealous, I suppose.” He settles for.

“Of which one.” Charles snaps his head up to Sebastian. A cheeky grin spreading across his face. Surely he can’t be that easy to read, right? “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

Charles is stumbling over his words. Questions of how he knows attempt to come out but sound like gibberish. Thankfully Seb understands him.

“You make puppy eyes at both of them all the time. You should be glad they’re both oblivious. It took her and Max years to figure it out.”

The first time he’d been relieved since this conversation started. Neither of them had noticed him. His friendship with the two was as close as he was going to get and he planned to keep it that way.

~

She’d been staying with Max that night. It was hard to find time to just be in each others presence during race weekends. Her mind was racing this weekend for some reason. Her nightmares had been getting worse recently, so she opted to keep herself awake and let Max sleep.

Her head was absolutely throbbing. She’d already stopped a few nose bleeds. She even tried levitating around random objects to get some of her energy out. Nothing was working.

Her vision was going now. She didn’t want to wake Max, but she couldn’t help the cries of pain the wracked her chest. The feeling of the floor. Then a person?

This was definitely a vision. Not a small one by the looks of it. She’s had a few of these before. Where she sees more then a moment and is able ti get a clearer picture.

She’s following around Charles. The Monegasque is racing. It’s the same track they are at now. She looked at the clock. Tomorrows date. Some time around 4.

Charles’ car has a rear tire explode. His car sending him into the wall. She can see his body dangling as the car flips itself.

Then she’s back. The white hot pain still searing her veins. Max holding her gently in his lap. Why does she feel like it’s still going?

She loses sight of Max one again and is thrown into another image. Her and Max sharing an intimate moment embracing each other.

She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face.

Someone else joins them now. Their intimate moment now being shared.

She’s confused. She’s scared. And she’s in so much pain.

~

Max held her as the pain dies down. He already had a wet rag in hand to hopefully help cool her rising body temperature and wipe away the blood that was stuck to her.

“Do you want to talk about what you saw?”

“Charles is going to crash tomorrow.”

“But you’re not going to let that happen are you?” There is a smug smile on his face. He already knows what she’s planning. Her and Charles had become relatively close since he’s been at Ferrari. Max actually thought their relationship was oddly cute in a way.

“I saw something else, also.”

“Yeah?”

"We were hugging and smiling. Then, someone else showed up. But it didn't ruin it? Like - they joined us, I guess."

Max ponders for a moment. It's not something he would've considered. It's definitely not something he would've seen himself doing.

The girl panicking on the floor makes him think she probably has no idea that it's actually pretty normal for that to happen nowadays. She's spilling words about how she'd never do that to him.

"Shush. I think we can figure this out in the morning." Max heaves her off the floor and into bed. Continuing to stroke her hair until she falls asleep.

~

She was on edge all day. She repeatedly warned Charles about his tires. She warned Seb about his tires and Charles.

It was nearing four o'clock now. She was watching the tire degradation, and Charles was getting close to not having anything left.

She ran. Ran to get on the radio and tell someone about his tires.

Thankfully, they listened. She hadn't been wrong about things yet. Charles came into the pits and got new tires.

The relief that washed over her when he crossed the finish line in one peice was immense.

Check didn't care he finished sixth. She ran to him regardless.

Charles was shocked when she jumped into his arms. She'd done this before. she always hugged him him when he was done racing. He learned early that she likes physical contact over words.

This hug was different. He could feel the tension actively leaving her muscles.

He just embraced her. Letting himself relax into her hold.

~

She was pacing in Sebs hotel room. Max had been attempting to get her to relax her body. Seb was sitting at the table watching the two go back and forth. Then there was Lewis.

Max had told him the interesting predicament they'd found themselves in. Seb had not really understood everything about it, and Max was doing a terrible job at trying to explain it to him. So he had asked Lewis to attempt.

Lewis had explained the idea of polyamory. The same idea Max was trying to explain. The same thing the girl pacing the room was not understanding.

"geliefde, we don't have to think about it."

"Why are we thinking about it exactly?" Pipes Lewis. He'd been quiet since she started pacing. After his explanation of something she'd never heard of.

All of them freeze. What are they supposed to say? She had a vision of the future and saw them with another male? A ridiculous notion.

Lewis looks between them all. The other three look between each other.

Seb looks at her. His face is caring and gentle. "She's been having some revelations about the world recently."

Lewis either is just nodding in understanding because it's the truth or he knows their lying and doesn't want to push further. Either way, at least he dropped it.

Back in Max's room, she'd finally been able to calm down. It still didn't make any sense to her, though. Why was Max so okay with this?

Max, unbeknownst to her, was pondering the idea. He'd learned to just flow with her visions. It wasn't set in stone but sometimes it was okay to just let it happen. This was one of those things that he was genuinely open to try if she saw him doing it.

Somewhere in his brain, he could find thoughts that he locked away. Things he thought were weird and decided never to open the box to that again.

Obviously, she wasn't opposed to the idea either. She saw herself in that vision. Her feelings are much different than Max's, though. He could see the shame in her eyes every time she looked at him.

Finally, he'd gotten her here. He's kneeling down in front of her while she sits on the bed. His hands are placed on either side of her thighs.

"I'm going to tell you how I feel about this and then I want you to be completely honest about your feelings, okay?"

She nods her head. Still avoiding his eyes. The guilt to much for her.

"I'm willing to see where this goes. We don't have to try to change anything. From what you saw, we're both happy. I quite like seeing you smile." His pointer finger quickly moved upwards, and the pad just barely touches the top of her nose. "Now, explain to me what you're feeling because unlike you, I am no superhero."

Superhero. A nickname she earned a year ago when she first showed him. He ranted about how she was like a few comicbook superheros he's seen. She wasn't fond of it at first, but now it feels endearing.

"I don't understand it yet. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's just that Hanna and seb had told me that it's two people, not three or more, like Lewis was explaining earlier."

Max nods his head in understanding. His hope is that it helps her keep going. He keeps up comforting little touches along her body.

"I'm not going to try to change anything, but I also don't want you to he upset. I've seen relationships at the paddock end because of someone else getting in the way."

"Well, those relationships were not meant to he three people. Maybe ours is. I've seen you with far too much love to give. I feel it would only be natural to let others in."

~

Charles couldn't help staring at her. Her stupid smile was making him swoon.

She was trying to tell him about something she's working on. Yet his mind was too far away to heat what she's saying.

She grabs his hand. Her attempt at pulling him back to earth. "Charlie? Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry. I'm a bit out of it today." He laughs. His stupid nervous laugh.

"Want to go for a walk to clear your head?"

"That sounds amazing."

Their in Silverstone this weekend. A place he knows fairly well. This walk made him see things he hadn't before.

"Is Max going to be upset you're walking alone with a different guy?" Charles is very aware that Max is protective of her. Mostly from people she doesn't know, cameras, and the media, but it still doesn't change the fact that he could get punched for this.

He takes note of how she bites her lip. "No, I texted him you were having a rough day and needed a friend."

He hums. The only response that feels appropriate.

He didn't notice how he kept walking, and she had stopped. Her hands rubbed her temples. "Are you alright?" Concern is etched into his face.

Somehow, he'd missed the car speeding towards him. He curses how quiet electric engines are. He thinks it might be the end. The way he attracts tragedy finally catching up with him.

He feels his body being thrown to the side. He thought the hit would be more painful. Maybe the pain just hasn't registered yet. The little patch of grass on the side of the road catches him. The fall felt abnormally slow.

Charles lifts his head to inspect his body. He feels fine. Better than fine, actually.

He drags himself up and glances at where his friend is. Panic immediately rises as he sees her on her knees with blood running down the side of her face.

He thinks the car might have hit her. But she looks perfectly fine aside from that. A car would have cause more frontal damage, and she probably would have hit her head.

Then again, he felt better then perfect right now.

He runs over to her and drops to his knees. His hands reach to gently cradle her face. She's panting and trying to get to her phone, but her hands are so shaky she can't type anything.

"Can I?"

She just nods and hands the device over to him. She was trying to call Max.

~

Max is almost flying out of the paddock. Yelling to Christian that he'd be right back.

He found Charles only a few blocks away. Keeping the head of his girlfriend elevated. Her face seemed paler, and there is a trail of crimson on the sides of her face.

Oh. Oh no.

Max pulls over and gets out of the car. "What happened?"

"A car came out of nowhere, speeding. I thought I got hit, but I don't know now, and she's like this, but I don't think it hit her either." Charkes spills in one breath.

Him and the Monegasque had been friends for a while. Well- as close of friends as rivals can be.

She's still awake and mildly coherent. She'd overexerted most likely.

"Schat, can you tell me what happened, please? I need to know how to help you."

Charles is confused by the question. Obviously, from what he'd explained, she'd most likely been hit by a car.

"Couldn't let gim get hurt." She mumbles. Somehow, Max knows exactly what she said, and Charles is left to decipher the meaning. Is it an English thing?

How could she have stopped the car? She wasn't even close to him!

~

Before Charles has a chance to ask anything, he's helping haul a female body through the 'secret' paddock entrance. The one usually used for emergencies. Max and Charles both figured this could constitute as one.

Charles was still confused why they weren't taking her to the medical center. Or anywhere else that would be able to help her better than they could.

Seb met them outside the Ferrari motor home. The door to his room open and waiting.

"What happened?" He looks at max expectantly for an answer.

"She over exerted herself, I think. Possibly moving Charles and healing him simultaneously."

"I'm sorry, what?" Charles is eyeing the two of them. The two only stare at him.

"Dies he know?" The German asks Max. The Dutch shook his head no and bit his lip. Seemingly giving away some secret.

Charles is confused, frustrated and concerned. He let's out a string of French words that neither can understand.

"I'm going to see if I can't clean her up and see if she'll wake up. Can you take Charles to his room and explain to him what happened?"

"Like- explain explain? Or explain?"

"He's seen it, so there's no use in hiding it now. By the looks of it, she was also willing to out herself for him."

Then Charles is being dragged off once again. Now to the comfort of his room instead.

The Dutchman practically forces Charles to sit down. "I'm going to explain to you, and you have to promise you will never speak a word of it."

~

Charles is still shocked by it all. Even in the evening after he's done all his media chorse, he still doesn't get it.

He knew there were some things about her that were weird and that her childhood was shit, but this is just insane.

He makes his way up to Max's hotel room. His brain still trying to process.

He thinks about turning around when he gets to the door. However, it's like they are reading his mind or something because Max opens the door as soon as he steps in front of it.

"Welcome!" Max moves aside to let him in. Charles takes cautious steps forward. His eyes landing on the bed where his friend lay.

She looks better now. Her face has some color back to it. The blood is gone. He's happy about it, but now he feels awkward.

"It's okay, Max told me that you know now." She sits up but doesn't look him in the eyes.

Max let's them have space yet remains perched on the corner. The guardian he's used to seeing.

Charles sits on the edge of the bed closest to her. She looks panicked.

"It's a lot to process."

She shakes her head. Her eyes find Max for some sort of support. It was easy with him.

"It doesn't mean that I'm going to stop loving you or anything. It's just information to take in and understand because it's new." He rambles. Not even realizing he let the L word slip.

Now her eyes find Charles'. They look for understanding. Charles then knows his mistake. His hand flies over his mouth in embarrassment. Cheeks are now growing red and warm.

"I'm so sorry. That wasn't meant- I-"

Charles stands up and is about to bolt before Max rudely blocks his way out.

He looks back at her as Charles tries to find a way through. "Is the face less foggy now?"

Charles is now confused, frustrated, awkward, and embarrassed. It's a combination that can't get any worse.

~

She's staring at him. Her eyes bore into his soul. The worst part is that Max is laughing about it.

Somehow, they had a feeling this could happen. She had a vision where they were not a couple but a trio. Now, she was trying to see if she could recall a resemblance. Charles adds insecure to his growing list of unpleasant emotions.

"I don't remember." She confesses. Guilt creeps onto her face.

"Well, the question is, do we want to try this?" Max asks with such confidence.

It throws charles' head into a tizzy. The two people he thought were the farthest out of reach are actually the closest? It seems unreal. "Have you two already talked about this?" Charles is hesitant in asking.

"After her vision, yes. There's been some discovery on our end, and it's something we're willing to try."

The girl nods her head in agreement. Her eyes light up now that Max has taken control of the conversation.

"Okay, I'm willing to give this a shot."

"I can't read minds, I need your open and honest feelings. If we're going to do this, then you're going to have to be vulnerable."

Max takes Charles hands in his. Their arms now stretch the length of the small table.

It's the touch that gets him. He'd seen Max do it to her a thousand times and constantly longed for it himself.

"I've actually been crushing on both of you- for awhile now." He admits.

The two look up at him with both surprise and warmth. They were glad to hear this. Relief floods through Charles allowing him to continue speaking.

"I thought I was broken or something because I wanted to be with both of you at the same time. I thought it was impossible, but here we are." Charles looks anywhere but at them.

Then she's next to him. Her lips pressed against his forehead in an endearing way.

It's weird that her powers had somehow managed to help her get two partners.

~

They take things slow. They keep open communication between the three of them. They double-check everything until they learn comforts and boundaries.

They are almost through the season now. They've come to Abu Dhabi.

Charles is an anxious mess. He jas a chance to help move the team up, and he wants it so bad.

It's the night before, and he can't sleep for the life of him. He checks his phone, sending a quick text to their group chat. Mostly filled with funny cat videos from Max.

It doesn't take long to get a response, and he's on his way.

Charles has gotten used to the fact that she will always be able to open the door as soon as he gets there. He barely bothers slowing down as he enters the room and falls face first on the bed.

"Rough night?" Asks Max.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

The girl playfully lays herself across the two. The weight of her body comforting to them both.

Max dosen't let it stay that way, though, as he rolls them all over and peppers both of their faces with chaste kisses.

It doesn't take Charles long to fall asleep with them. His and Max's arms tangled up with the girl in between them.

~

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @Ipab @jayda12

Next ->

4.5 ->

[bestedoesmeow]

⋆Barmen Charles leclerc x Younger reader⋆

inspired by the summer I had few years ago. Still thankful for the experience, and joy you brought to my life even though we are not really in good terms right now :)

'' One summer your whole system of understanding love changes due to some monegasque barmen that you meet on a holiday that you thought to be just like others.''⋆

PART 1 ( click on the title to listen to the song while reading the story!!)

'' I am just gonna go and get a bottle of water from the bar. Why am I making such a big deal out of it?" You are talking to yourself, while your hands are shaking with the excitement you feel and your blood is rushing crazily through your cheeks. It's hot—unbelievably, amazingly, and almost unbearably hot for someone to even try to walk. But there you are, walking in a rush in your swimsuit and sunglasses, with flushed red cheeks and shaky hands because of the image you have of him in your mind. You are afraid that you are going to forget how to talk when you see him—his pretty green eyes, showy smile showing off his dimples, the almost invisible freckles he has on his nose due to the humidity and salt. Is he 24? Maybe 20? You don't know anything, probably you don't even care though—all you care about is how he makes you feel whenever you see him standing at that bar, preparing drinks for people and sending that shy yet confident smile at the same time whenever someone says "thank you" or "you look handsome." Old ladies, their daughters, and even some gentlemen—everyone there is in awe of how handsome and charming he is. It would be a pity if you weren't. You don't know if you feel jealous that he has too many options or feel happy that you are not alone, with everyone adoring him. While wishfully thinking, you realize you are almost standing in front of the bar, with the sounds of the harsh sea in your ears and some people sitting on the chairs behind you after getting out of the sea to grab something to eat. Lunch? Probably.

"What can I get you?" His French accent echoes in your ears, leaving you even weaker and more vulnerable to any attack. He smiles at you—those dimples, those damn dimples. Those smiling eyes and his welcoming gesture—almost too welcoming that you start to think about telling him everything. Right there, just right there.

"Can I get a bottle of water? It's getting even hotter and I just can't stan—" You stop, wondering why you just couldn't get the water and go. Did you really have to?

"Oh, it's unbelievably hot today," he says. "I can't tell you how many t-shirts I've changed into. It's freaking hot," he adds. You feel the sweat drops on your back flow down by the time he stops speaking. Thanks, thanks for not leaving me there cringing hard at myself. Thanks for talking back about the fucking weather and making it seem like a big issue.

"Why don't you take a seat? I'll make you a Martini. Pink? That'll cool you off for sure."

You try to comprehend the moment, his voice, his offer. You look around to see if he has anyone other than you to talk to, but it seems like you are alone.

"You aren't underage, are you?" he says this time. It is the fourth time he has spoken, but there is something in your throat that controls you, and you just can't come up with words. You take a seat, and your bikini drips some water.

"I am wet, like, so much that I probably shouldn't sit, so I'll only get the water, thank y—"

He cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence, as if he is just as excited to talk with you. At least you wish he is.

"Oh, come on, do you think people who come here to drink are all suited up? Don't worry, I'll take care of it after. Martini?" His French accent is even more visible now, and he is raising an eyebrow at you. Is he being flirty or just being nice? Or is he always like this?

"Yeah, okay," you say, trying not to sound so unsure, excited, or like a teenager who has a crush on an older guy who seems like a Greek god or a prince?

He nods and looks into your eyes before acting to prepare your drink, while you pick at the sides of your nails.

"What is your name?" he asks suddenly, and you are not expecting it. It's too much for you to handle, and your heart is almost about to stop with all the affection from the guy. You are determined not to show it, though.

"Oh, it's Y/N."

"That's a nice name. Mine is Charles, nothing special, you know," he says while pouring your drink with almost shaky hands. Is he okay? Or too shy? Or are they forcing him to make connections with people?

"I love your name. I mean, I love the name 'Charles,' sounds magical, maybe?" His lips are curled into a wide smile, while little sweat drops are determined to fall from his forehead.

"You think so?"

"Yes, it's a great name. You should realize it too," you say this time before taking a sip from the Martini he just prepared for you—with his own, freaking beautiful hands.

"How old are you, huh?" he says. He leans his body on the counter, and his gaze is focused on yours. His green eyes wander around your face while you try not to turn your head around because the connection is too much more than you can handle.

"Nineteen."

"That's a nice age. I am 24, and I feel like I am already too old to do lots of things," he says. Finally, he cuts the eye contact to clean some glasses left behind by the people who just thanked him for the delicious drinks.

"Well, that's wrong. You look much younger, though, if it helps," you say. Did you really say that? You can't believe you can just sit there and talk to him—the guy you've been drooling over for almost three days maybe? Is this what magic feels like? Or am I in a dream?

"Thanks, amour. That's so nice of you to say. How long are you planning to stay here? In France?"

"We are leaving this weekend." And I am also leaving you here, with all of my beautiful feelings and all of my dreams.

"That's bad. Have I served your family before? How long have you been staying here?"

"About a week, maybe? Yes, and you have. They like you, to be honest. Your vibe is all over the place."

SHUT UP. TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM, HUH? STOP IT. HE'LL THINK YOU'RE DESPERATE.

"That's so nice to hear such a thing from someone like you. How come you never came to the bar?"

"I did, but it's always too crowded, you know? It's hard to find a place to sit."

"I know, I know," he says, and he turns his head to take another hotel customer's drink order. You take another sip from the Martini before wrapping your towel around your shoulders and pretending to get up from the chair.

"Thanks for the drink, Charles," you say, hoping he can hear you. You wouldn't take it personally if he couldn't, though.

"Nice meeting you, Y/N," he says, leaving the shaker there to say goodbye to you. He left his job to say goodbye to you? What is going on here? Can someone punch or pinch you?

He comes closer to you before handing you a napkin with some numbers written on it.

"Call me before you leave, so we can spend some time together. We can hit the downtown or go anywhere you'd like to see, huh?"

"Yes, of course."

He leaves you there with bouncy heart, sweaty palms, shaky legs, and body. His cologne follows you to your room, along with the dream of him.

[miryum]

Foundling Villa- Chapter 12

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser

Warnings: Argument, misogyny, a man being a putz and hitting on reader (he grabs her wrist), and protective!Charles (yes, that’s a warning)

ao3 link  next chapter>>

Princess Leclerc,

I am, admittedly, surprised by your letter. It’s not often that a princess writes to me after I attend her brother-in-law’s coronation with tales of foreboding. 

I’m happy that you call me a friend. It’s nice to know that I have confidante in this upscale ladder of hierarchy. 

Concerning your words, I’m afraid I can’t say much more. My father would have my hide. Hopefully, he doesn’t find out that we’re conversing. 

Enza and Redull have always had a rivalry. It started when Redull was an up- and- coming kingdom. Enza felt threatened, so the king sent troops to watch over our building and monarchy. The people of Redull didn’t look kindly on that, and if Enzan troops hadn’t been deployed, Redull’s territory could be much more expensive today. My kingdom has never forgiven yours. My father, especially, had a personal vendetta against Enza. I’m not sure I’m in a position to disclose why. 

There is the past. I cannot tell you the future. All I can say is: tread carefully in the present.

Best wishes,

Prince Max Verstappen 

P.S. pawn to f6

**

“King Stein, once again, I wish to express my immense gratitude for allowing me and my wife to stay with you.” Charles shook King Stein’s hand and bowed. It was a lovely day and the royals of both Enza and Haas stood on the steps of the Haas castle. 

“It’s my pleasure!” King Stein grinned. “The kingdom of Haas is always welcome to Enzans. And my daughter loves having Princess Y/n as a playmate.” Charles glanced over to watch as you swooped up the princess of Haas in a large hug, whispering goodbyes and promises to come again. “But Prince Charles,” King Stein gripped the younger man closer. “Remember what we discussed. It’s vital to Formuline’s future. I recommend sending your quickest messenger to your brother to tell him what you learned.”

“Yes, of course. Once again, my deepest thanks.” Charles bowed once more before his eyes shifted back over to you. “Darling,” Charles ambled over to you and the young princess, setting a hand on your lower back. “We really should be going; King Verstappen is expecting us before nightfall.”

You sighed dramatically. “You’re right, unfortunately. I am so sorry, Princess.” You set the girl down, bopping her on the nose. “I must go now.”

The Princess of Haas groaned. “Noooo! Princess Y/n! We’re not done playing!”

“I know, dear,” you crouched down and pouted. “But I’ll visit soon, okay?”

“Okay…” the young girl huffed. “Do you think you could bring your baby next time?”

You frowned cautiously. “What baby?”

“Your and Prince Charles’ baby!” The girl exclaimed, “everybody has babies and I wanna see yours! I bet they're adorable!”

“We’ll get right on that,” Charles smirked, hand snaking to your waist and pinching your side. You slapped his hand away and bid goodbye to the monarchs of Haas.

The flirting between you and Charles had increased, and you weren’t sure why. It made you feel like a teenager again, daydreaming about the beautiful people you saw at court with your sisters. Your connection with Charles had grown ever since the night at Foundling Villa and the unfortunate death of King Hervé. Along with the connection, the butterflies in your stomach. 

Charles took his place beside you in the carriage and opened up a small chest. “What are you doing?” You hummed, peering at the chest and resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I need to write a letter to Lorenzo,” Charles explained. “King Stein said some very interesting things that shed some light on our current situation.”

“Like what?” You nuzzled into his side, feeling tired after your visit in Haas. Charles focused on the parchment, quill, and ink in front of him. He hoped to ignore the fluttering in his stomach and the pain in his chest.

He started composing his letter to Lorenzo, simultaneously telling you what he had learned. “Redull came to Haas asking for an alliance. Haas demanded to know why, but Redull refused. King Stein heard from King Hamilton that Redull also came to him. We’re nowhere close to knowing their plan, but it’s going to be big. Clearly, Redull doesn’t believe they can do it alone. As long as we keep allies away from them, it’ll buy us more time. I don’t want to believe my worries, but Redull may be looking for war. If they acquire the support of another large kingdom, or even a smaller kingdom such as Lauren or Aston, their army would amass overwhelming numbers that could easily cut down all of Formuline.”

When you didn’t respond with helpful insight or advice, Charles looked down at your sleeping figure. “Oh.” He blinked twice. Does this mean she trusts me now?

**

“Y/n, cherié,” Charles rubbed your back gently. “We’ve arrived in Redull.”

“What?” You mumbled, curling into him. 

“You must awaken. We have to meet with King Verstappen.” 

“Right, yes, alright.” You nodded sagely, and then promptly went back to sleep. Charles chuckled deeply. He continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear and gently coax you awake until you were fully conscious. “I am so sorry,” you shook your head, embarrassed. “I guess the rocking of the carriage put me to sleep.”

“That’s quite alright, but we still have a meeting to attend to.” Charles knocked on the carriage interior and the door sprung open by a footman. 

“Must I join you in the meeting?” you wondered. 

Charles frowned. “I would prefer it. I’m not sure I trust the people of Redull. Especially the aristocrats. I would rather have you close by so I can see and tend to you.”

“Well, that’s very sweet, Charles, but I’m pretty sure I can handle my own.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he conceded. 

Stepping down from the carriage, you two were greeted by King Verstappen and his son, Prince Max. “Prince Leclerc! Princess Leclerc! What a pleasure to have you join us in Redull!” The two men were dressed to the nines in a way that made you suspect they were trying to upstage or intimidate you. Prince Max muttered something and his father shot him a glare, murmuring a harsh complaint back.

“King Verstappen, how chivalrous of you to invite us,” Charles said.

“Well, once I heard about your newlywed excursion around the continent, I simply had to. It didn’t seem right that you would pass through Formuline without visiting Redull. We are one of your closest allies.” The words had a thinly veiled threat hidden in it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, after all.

“I can’t imagine how we skipped over Redull,” you spoke up, surprising the Redull monarch. “It pains me that I wouldn’t visit my good friend, Prince Verstappen.” The said man bowed lowly to you. “Oh, and Prince Verstappen,” you began. “King's pawn to e3.”

**

The throne room was bustling with people. You stuck to the edges of the room, priding yourself as a wallflower. You dreaded your decision of not following Charles to his meeting with King Verstappen. Instead of being with your husband, whom you knew, you were stuck in a room full of foreign strangers. Who knew if they were whispering behind your back, plotting the demise of Enza? Needles seemed to prick down your spine. You didn’t feel safe. You felt surrounded by wolves in sheep's clothing. Here in Redull, Charles was the only other sheep you could count on, certain he wasn’t wearing a disguise.

It didn’t help your discomfort that a man kept watching you over the rim of his glass.

This man, in military garb, had shaved blond hair and a lanky frame. His eyes, which bored into you, were a dark brown. You carefully watched as he set down his goblet and stalked over to you. 

Immediately, you turned away. Your gown, which had just been cleaned after the long trip, swished around your feet. The simple tiara that Redull maids had woven into your hair felt heavy. Spying the doors- your exit- you hurried towards them.

“Do you know where Prince Charles is?” you asked one of the guards stationed nearby. Once he gave you directions, you set out down the corridor he instructed. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed your fears; the military man was following you. An unnerving smirk flew onto his lips when you made eye contact. You turned away and your steps became faster. You knew that as long as you found Charles, this man would leave you alone. You wondered if you should’ve stayed in the throne room- at least people were there to witness anything. Guards had lined the room, capable of intervening. Cursing your impulsive thinking, you knew you were too far into the halls of Redull to turn back. 

Unfortunately, the man caught up to you just as you rounded a corner. “Princess Y/n of Enza, correct?” His gravelly voice made your insides curl with disgust. 

“Princess Leclerc, yes,” you corrected him, attempting to brush past. Just one more hallway and the room where Charles sat would be in your sights. 

“I’m Duke Samuel Hasting. I also hold the title of a commander of King Verstappen’s cavalry.” He seemed to boast, yet his brag wasn’t as grand as he had hoped.

“Fascinating.” You wanted to roll your eyes. “I also hold the title of married.”

“Yet, where’s your husband?” Hasting looked even more disgusting as he lent into you. 

“In a room right down the hall, actually. Would you like me to grab him for you?” 

“No, no, that’s alright. I’m sure he doesn’t have to know everything that happens to you.” Hasting grabbed your wrist.

“I will scream,” you said lowly. It sounded more like a threat than a warning. “Let go of me this instant.”

“Oh, Princess, you don’t mean that.” It sounded like Hasting was trying to sound seductive, but he just sounded constipated.

“I do mean it,” you retorted. “Why would I say it otherwise? That’s stupid.” You wrenched out of his grip and stormed down the hall. Finally turning the corner, you saw Charles exiting the meeting room, shaking hands with advisors of Redull, looking pleased, yet reserved. 

“Y/n!” Hasting called out sharply.

“Y/n?” Charles’ head turned towards you. You let out a sigh of relief. Seeing your expression, Charles’ brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” He stepped towards you, hand outstretched and you grasped it thankfully. “Y/n?” he asked again.

“Please, can we leave?” you asked.

“Yes, but why?” Charles’ eyes darted to Hasting, who stood at the end of the corridor.

“Princess Y/n was bothering me,” Hasting smoothly lied. “Making advances, and such. I thought you should know.”

“Is this true, cherié?” Charles glanced down at you. 

You shook your head, a little hurt that he thought you would flirt with another man. “The opposite, actually. I was coming to get you when this… Duke grabbed me.”

“He touched you?” Charles’ words became dangerously low. 

“He took hold of my wrist, Charles. It wasn’t that bad.”

“No, you’re wrong. He should never have touched you. What this Duke did was betray the trust of Enza by pursuing you.” Your husband shot a look at the Redull advisors, who shrunk from his stare.

“Charles, please, can we simply leave? I don’t feel comfortable here.” Admittedly, this new protective, even possessive, side of Charles sparked something within you.

“If that’s what you want.” Charles shot one last glare at Hasting. Hasting glowered back, pissed that you outed him. Charles placed a hand on your back and swept you towards the palace entrance.

As you and your husband passed Hasting, the latter man clapped a strong hand on your shoulder, jerked you backward, and snarled, “you bitch!” His hand drew back, as if to slap you, but Charles intervened.

It would best be described as a dance. Charles’ movements were fluid and languid. In one motion, Charles gently pushed you behind him, reared back, and punched the man. “That is my wife!” A primal instinct seemed to rush over him: an instinct to protect what he loved. 

Blood poured out of Hasting’s broken nose and the skin at Charles’ knuckles split. Redull advisors were quick to pull Charles back, lest he do anything worse. You and Charles were ushered out of the Redull palace, hurried goodbyes from both you and Prince Max; you wanted one good tie to the kingdom. 

Once you were in the carriage, tying one of your handkerchiefs around his hand, you whispered softly, “thank you, Charles.”

Charles’ eyes had gone from livid to loving. “I told you- I’d do anything for you.”

[nathaslosthershit]

~Formula 1 Masterlist~

*Requests open for any of the drivers named below!

~ Series ~

Blind Items

A new wave of rumors has hit the paddock about everyone’s beloved drivers

Teen Dad!Oscar Piastri series

Oscar Piastri became a teen dad to twins when he was 18 years old. Figuring that keeping them from the public would be the best course of action till they were older, Oscar managed to keep them a secret from fans till a gossip page got word. Here is that aftermath.

~ Multiple Drivers ~ The Main Event A wedding between Logan Sargeant and the youngest Leclerc child means a very interesting guest list, in which all previous victims of the F1 Blind Items account are included. (Includes separate x reader pairings with Logan Sargeant, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Alex Albon, Lance Stroll, and Lewis Hamilton) ~ Lando Norris ~ Welcome Interruptions

While streaming, Lando gets interrupted by two very adorable and very welcome guests

Unremarkable

Blind Items returns again to ruin yet another happy couple's peace. This time, Lando Norris and his ‘unremarkable’ girlfriend.

Long Distance, Time Flies (slowly)

Long distance relationships are hard, especially when they both have very time consuming careers (2 Parts)

New Neighbors and Interrupted Streams, Media Interrogation

Desperate for new friends, maybe it's time to revert to the tried and true neighborly American cookie exchange. (2 Parts)

“Notice me” “Beg for it”

After what feels like centuries of back and forth, Lando and his McLaren teammate have tired people out with their inaction to do something about their very obvious crushes.

The Café Boy The move to Monaco for your new job wasn't going to be easy, even if you had your best friend by your side, but maybe the cute boy you met in a café can turn your luck around. ~ Oscar Piastri ~ Teen dad Series

Oscar Piastri became a teen dad to twins when he was 18 years old. Figuring that keeping them from the public would be the best course of action till they were older, Oscar managed to keep them a secret from fans till a gossip page got word. Here is that aftermath.

Emotional times

Pregnancy was a time full of hardships. Hormones on high, stress of the incoming baby, and all the sudden changes were what this father-to-be was expecting, ready to face. What he wasn't expecting was having to battle his pregnant wife's newfound sensitivity to everything that could have her emotions changing in an instant

Passenger Princess Piastri Oscar hates driving outside of F1, you are sick of driving him everywhere and have tried everything to curb his obsession with being a passenger princess, but you may have stumbled upon a new method of making him get behind the wheel. (Aka Oscar's wife finds a new upside to her pregnancy) ~ Charles Leclerc ~ The Truth Behind It All , After All This Time

Charles didn't cheat on his ex with his current gf, but due to not wanting to cause further issues with his ex, he can't really come out and give the true story. (2 Parts)

Teenage Angst

Charles Leclerc’s 16 year old daughter, Lila, has had quite the rebellious phase and the Monegasque just can’t figure out what to do. Luckily, his wife has some of the answers.

Celebration baby, literally

8 months after Charles Monaco win, a rumor arrives about just how hard he celebrated

Audacity of Man , Stupidly Charming Charles was never anything but a compassionate and wonderfully loving boyfriend. You always used to brag about how attentive he was... I guess this is karma? Leclerc!Sister Red, White, and Williams' Blue , Oh Brother(s) ~ Logan Sargeant ~ Trips to See the In-Laws

In order to save his teammate from an interviewer with not so innocent thoughts, Alex has to reveal that his thought-to-be-single friend, Logan, is actually in a long term relationship.

Red, White, and Williams' Blue

What happens when the American driver gets outed for dating one of Monaco's It girls who also happens to be the younger sister to one of the Ferrari drivers?

Oh Brother(s)

All Logan Sargeant wanted was a nice and productive conversation with the love of his life’s three annoyingly protective older brothers, was that too much to ask for? (Part 2 to Red, White, and Williams' Blue, but can be read as a standalone)

Some Bad, but a Whole lot of Good

To the fans, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume the week after his replacement had been hell for newly dropped Logan Sargeant, but to the people who knew him, they weren't worried.

~ Alex Albon ~

Team USA

Blind items is back with a new victim, Alex Albon and his American Mclaren race engineer of a girlfriend. With the news comes a very interesting Team Torque episode.

~ Lewis Hamilton ~ How Old?

A driver, unknown to the public, seems to have found himself a younger girlfriend. There isn't anything morally (nor legally) wrong with the relationship, and the pair are doing quite well in their private bliss, but the internet likes to insert itself in other's business. Luckily, Lewis is doing too good to care about what the internet has to say.

~ Max Verstappen ~ Coworkers?... Something Like That

Working in media for a Formula 1 team, you had expected to be behind the scenes, unseen and unnoticed by fans. But catching the eye of one of the drivers and the very public flirting as a result has thrust you into the spotlight

~ Carlos Sainz ~ Friends? Lovers? Enemies?

Carlos Sainz has had quite a few Blind Items come out about his relationship friendship rivalry something with his childhood best friend. No one can figure out what they are to each other no matter how hard they try, and the couple frinds enemies pair don’t seem to mind one bit.

~ Franco Colapinto ~

First Impressions and Poorly Made Assumptions

Franco fell hard and fast for a girl that is actively trying to keep her distance, but she knows she has already lost that battle.

[illicitlimerence-writes]

karting queen | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 1.9k words request: yes by anon: “can i request an imagine where charles and reader are taking their daughter karting and charles gets all emotional when he sees his little princess in the podium” warnings: kids! maybe language. not proofread! this is part of the 'magic hour' series!! so pls read those before reading this one a/n: i’m so sorry i’ve been missing!!!!!! last week i went away on a trip (my first time on a plane!) and had no time to write, but i promise i’ve been writing every change i get<33

my masterlist / part one / part two / part three / part four

“diane, we need to leave now!”

“i can’t find my helmet!” 

“did you check inside your closet?” you raised an eyebrow, hearing her footsteps running around her bedroom.

“it’s not here!” she replied, you sighed, walking to the living room, after a few seconds of scanning the room you shook your head. “i left it on my desk,” she said once she walked down the stairs, zipping up her racing suit. you always told her she could change when you arrived at the track, but she liked leaving the house ready.

“trophy room?” you suggested, throwing an arm over her shoulders, you leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “maybe you can use another one, just this once,” you told her as you walked to charles’ study, also known as ‘trophy room’ as it was the place where he kept his most beloved helmets, trophies, and other important items. she shook her head, you ran your fingers through her hair. “huh,” you frowned as you didn’t spot it there either. just then, a loud thud came from upstairs. 

“he’s dead.” she declared, narrowing her eyes. “i’ll kill him-”

“you’re the one who wanted a baby brother,” you reminded her, watching your seven-year-old little teenager run towards her brother’s room. you went after her, arriving just in time to see your two-year-old boy, jules, push the visor up. he was wearing diane’s helmet, one she’d designed herself, the colors matching the suit she wore. 

“di!” he smiled, “race you,”

“why does he have to be so cute?” she grunted, her annoyance disappearing at her brother’s toothy grin. 

“now you know what it’s like for your dad and i,” you smiled as diane walked to jules and sat next to him, hugging the little boy. 

-

after a car ride to the track, diane helped you with jules, holding his hand as you carried her kart.

normally you’d have charles by your side, helping you, but he was away at the time, so it was just the three of you. he was bummed he had to miss diane’s first (unofficial) race. the girls she’d be competing against were all girls you met throughout the years, some did it for fun, and others, like diane herself, took it more seriously. 

“you ready, bub?” you asked her, finishing braiding her hair to get it away from her face. she nodded, handing you a plastic hair tie. “nervous?” she shook her head, “then why have you been so quiet?” you asked, placing your hands on her shoulders. 

“i wish daddy were here,” she sighed, from over her shoulder you saw her playing with her fingers.

“i know, sweets. i know he wants to be here as well,” you reminded her, kissing her cheek. “but we can call him tonight, and you can tell him how it went, how does that sound?”

“has he sent pictures of magic hour yet?” she asked. whenever charles left home, diane made him promise to send photos, so she knew he was thinking of her. 

“he has. i was going to show them last night, but you fell asleep before i had a chance to.” you smiled, grabbing your phone and searching for the pictures. one for each day he’d been away. four pictures. 

“where is he?” she asked.

“new york. you can see the statue of liberty… right there,” you pointed, zooming in on the photograph.

“he’s very far away,” she noticed.

“he is. but he’s coming back soon, you know that.”

“i know,” she did. however, no matter how much time passed, it still hurt that she couldn’t have her father present when she needed him the most.

“come on, now, we have to get everything ready.” you helped her stand up, giving her a quick hug. “you’re finished with your snacks, julie?” you asked the young boy, who was sipping from the juice you’d packed. “that’s my good boy. let’s go,” you grabbed his hand, the other one over diane’s shoulders as you walked to the track. 

-

diane sat on her kart, you could see her staring at the lights, waiting for them to go out. you held jules with one hand, the other one holding your phone so you could show charles the race when he arrived. jules was easily distracted by everything going on around him, so you were used to his head whipping around every few seconds. it was surprising when he started kicking his legs and moving his arms. 

“it’s almost time, julie,” you told him. “is that why you’re so excited? you like the sound, too?” you smiled, looking at your boy, but he was looking somewhere behind you. 

he let out a loud, excited scream. you smiled at the sound, turning around to see what had caused such a reaction.

of course.

charles was rushing to you with a big grin on his face, a relieved look in his eyes. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked, letting jules down, who ran to charles as soon as his tiny feet hit the ground.

“i thought i wouldn’t make it in time,” he sighed, his chest rising with each breath he took. he leaned down to grab jules, hugging him tight against himself, kissing all over his face, his head.

“you literally just made it,” you chuckled, extending your arms to wrap them around both of your boys. “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” 

“it was a surprise. for all of you.” he smiled, kissing your cheek. you bit your lip, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“you’re unbelievable,” you told him, turning your head to the side, “it’s time,” you said, approaching the barriers. he stood next to you, with jules between the both of you, and took his phone out, ready to record everything. 

throughout the years you’d gotten used to all of charles’ reactions whilst watching a race. whether it was watching his younger brother, or his own daughter. he’d hiss, wince and flinch with every turn, he’d tap his fingers on whatever surface was in front of him, and mumble under his breath. 

“calm down. it’s karting.” you whispered.

“it’s her first race.” he widened his eyes, justifying his excitement. “and she’s gonna win,”

“she’s second,” you told him.

“she’s gonna win.” he declared. you smiled, turning your head back to the track. 

-

and she won. diane was so excited when she jumped out of her kart. she ran to her friends, hugging all of them, the girls formed a big circle around diane. once all the girls went to their parents, you approached diane, with jules in your arms.

“you were amazing, baby!” you smiled, letting her run to you and wrap her arms around you, her face hidden in your stomach.

“good di!” jules smiled, too.

“thank you mommy. thank you julie,” she grinned, her cheeks a light pink, the baby hairs sticking to the side of her face from the sweat. 

“no hug for me?” charles asked, standing behind diane. of course he had to make a grand entrance. diane’s eyes widened once she recognized charles’ voice, she turned her head and ran to her father, who was crouching to be at eye level with her.

“you came!” she wrapped her arms around his neck, throwing the colorful helmet to the side. to get a better grip on him.

“of course i’m here. i wouldn’t miss this for anything,” he smiled, holding his little girl close to himself. “you were amazing. i knew you could do it, my sweet girl.” 

“i was thinking about everything you’ve told me! to keep my head down so i could go faster, and be aware of things around me, and-” she rambled on, her words almost incoherent, the shine in her eyes was equal to the one in charles’ own. 

“i know, i noticed. you’re going to be a great racer, you already are.” he said, holding her face in his hands, “the best.”

“because i have you with me!” diane smiled, “and you are the best, too!” 

watching the two of them hug was a sight that you could never get tired of. 

“diane! come look at this!” one of the girls called for her, and your girl turned around, seeing a podium set up for them. although, instead of the usual three steps, there were ten. one for each girl that raced that evening. 

diane ran to her friends, and they all started talking and pointing at it, you walked to charles sliding your free arm around his waist. 

“we didn’t set this up,” you raised an eyebrow, charles’ knowing smile was enough answer for you. 

“just a little something for our little champion and her friends,” he said, taking jules from your arms and hugging him close.

“you can’t do this every time she wins. or loses,” you reminded him.

“i know. but it’s her first race. i had to do something special.” he threw an arm over your shoulders. you placed your head on his shoulder, watching as all the girls stepped up on their spots. when it was time for diane to rush to the top step, you pulled out your phone and started recording. 

the other girls cheered loudly for her, just like they’d done for the others. jules clapped, kicking his legs as his sister lifted a trophy. you also yelled and cheered, a big smile on your face. turning to your side, you noticed that charles was very quiet.

“charles,” you whispered, a soft look in your eyes as you watched the tears welling up in his eyes.

“i know. i’m overreacting, but i-”

“hey, no, it’s okay. trust me, i’m trying to keep composure,” you chuckled, watching all the girls hug each other.

“that’s our little champion,” he whispered, moving his head to kiss your forehead. “i can’t wait to see what her future holds,”

“let’s just focus on the present, yeah? the future can wait.”

“yeah. right now i just want to hold her and tell her how proud i am,”

“she already knows that,” you reminded him.

“still,” he shrugged. “and you, little jules, you already know what you want to be when you grow up?” he asked his youngest child.

“yeah! ‘tronaut!” 

“an astronaut?” you asked, “that sounds amazing, baby,”

“mommy! mommy, daddy! look,” diane ran towards you, pointing at the sky. “it’s time!” she jumped up and down, “magic hour!”

“magic hour!” jules repeated, kicking his legs to be set down. diane grabbed his hand and they both ran towards the podium, which had the perfect background.

“do you think she’ll ever get tired of magic hour?” charles asked.

“no. she always stares at it desperately when you’re away. and feels relieved when you’re back, the first day especially, she looks at the sunset like it’s the reason you’re back.” you said, smiling. 

“we’ve got two great kids in our hands,” he smiled, looking at both of your kids standing on the tallest step, the sunset behind them. the magic hour witnessing another family reunion.

“we do,” you nodded.

“dad, mom, you’re gonna miss it, hurry up!” diane demanded, skipping from one foot to the other.

“i love that we’ve taught our children to have faith in the magic of this world,” he kissed your cheek.

“that’s the only way to live. finding the beauty in the most simple things. luckily, with you by my side, that’s easy to do.”

[sebscore]

Hey I saw your reply about the leclerc fics, could I request an imagine of say 16yr old sister reader getting her wisdom teeth out, and charles picking her up, getting her to stay in the car, etc? Sounds so random but I feel like it would be the funniest and cutest thing. If you could add an instagram story au of a photo that charles had taken of the loopy reader that would be amazing haha, thanks!

THANKS FOR NOT KILLING ME | CHARLES LECLERC

pairings: charles leclerc x sister!reader / arthur leclerc x sister!reader / lorenzo leclerc x sister!reader

warnings: mention of surgery. dentist. anesthesia. food. mood swings.

author's note: thank you for the request, I had fun writing this one! sorry if the ending seems rushed, I just didn't know how to properly end it. hope you enjoy it and let me know what you thought of it!

• • • • • • •

''Can you pull over? I have to pee.'' Y/N asked Charles, who was focused on the road.

Her older brother glanced at her through his rearview mirror, already done with the entire drive. ''No, you're gonna have to wait.''

Their mother had asked the second oldest Leclerc sibling to accompany her and his younger sister to the dentist, to get the youngest's wisdom teeth removed. Pascale already guessed that she was going to need some help with the teenage girl once her surgery was done.

He hadn't been too ecstatic, just wanting to hang out with his friends or play some video games. However, his mother had been very adamant on him joining and he found it hard to say no to her. Meanwhile, Arthur had volunteered to tag along, not wanting to miss his sister's reaction to the anesthesia as he had seen countless funny wisdom teeth removal videos online. The eldest brother, Lorenzo, had other businesses to attend to, but promised he would help take care of the girl once he was home.

''Honey, I told you to go slow on the pineapple juice.'' Her mother kindly scolded her, recalling her daughter's determination to only consume the drink as she had heard from friends that it would lessen the pain.

Y/N sighed, uncomfortably shifting in her seat. ''I'm hungry and thirsty, Maman!'' She complained, not having eaten anything in the last 8 hours.

''We'll get something afterwards, chérie,'' her mother assured her, ''how about ice-cream?'' Pascale turned around, looking at her daughter. ''Sounds good, thanks.''

''We're here.'' Charles pulled up to the parking and safely parked their car in the right spot.

Arthur snickered. ''Ooh~ I can't wait for you to get back.'' He teased her, rubbing his hands together.

''Shut up, you idiot!'' Y/N slapped his arm, resulting in a loud yelp from her older brother.

''Auw! You little shit!'' Arthur tried to hit her back, but his arm was pushed away by his mother. ''Stop it!''

''Maman!'' Arthur exclaimed, appalled. ''She started it!''

''You provoked her, Arthur.'' Pascale opened the car door and got out, adjusting her clothing.

Charles turned in his seat, looking at his sister. ''Y/N, good luck and we'll see you in an hour.'' Since the youngest sibling was still a minor, a guardian had to be present during the extent of her surgery, and with covid regulations still intact, the brothers couldn't wait for their sister inside the building. So, Charles and Arthur would fill up their free time until their mother had notified them when the surgery was done.

''It's not scary, right?'' She asked them, not making eye-contact with her brothers.

The two men glanced at each other, amused by the sudden behavior change. ''It's gonna be okay, you're not gonna feel a thing when they're removing the teeth.'' Charles comforted her.

Arthur opted to tease her, but seeing her obvious anxious expression, he didn't and followed his brother. ''Yeah, you have nothing to be scared about.''

Pascale had made her way around the car and opened her daughter's side of the door. ''Come on, we don't want to be late.'' Y/N nervously smiled at her two brothers, before getting out of the car.

''It's gonna be okay, you're brave!''

''Don't worry about it, munchkin.''

Their words of encouragement send a smile to their mother's face, touched by how her sons comforted their baby sister. Pascale put her arm around her daughter's shoulders and guided her into the dentist's office.

Her brothers watched them going in. ''She's gonna be fine, right?'' Arthur asked Charles, not entirely sure.

''Of course, you know how she doesn't like to embarrass herself in public.''

''I'm dying!'' Y/N cried out to her mother, once she had regained consciousness.

Pascale shook her head, already knowing it was going to be a difficult task. ''You're not, my love.'' She took out her phone and sent a quick text to Charles, informing him she had woken up and that she would need their help to get her into the car.

''Maman! I can't see anything, I've gone blind!'' Upon hearing her daughter's words, she looked at her. ''Chérie, that's because your eyes are closed.'' Pascale, along with the dentist and his assistant, had a hard time not to burst out laughing at the sight of the young girl.

''Oh.''

With some help from the assistant, Pascale got her daughter out of the chair. They each held one of Y/N's arms over their shoulders until they made it to the front entrance of the building, where Charles and Arthur were waiting for them. As soon as the two Leclerc's noticed their mom and sister, they took over.

''See? We told you that you would be fine.'' Charles immediately reassured her, his sister mindlessly staring at nothing.

Y/N whined in return. ''I'm not fine, I'm dying!'' She loudly exclaimed, her mother trying to shush her straight away.

''And I'm dying to get out of here, let's go!'' Arthur commented and made a move to start walking back to the car.

Pascale thanked the assistant for the successful surgery, just loud enough for Y/N to hear.

''Thank you for not killing me, Doc!'' She yelled out, causing some heads to turn at the noise.

''That's my job, thank you, Y/N.'' The assistant took it all in good fun and smiled at the young girl, her whole day made because of the interaction.

Eventually, the brothers got her in the car. Arthur put her seatbelt on, but stopped midway once he saw her looking wide-eyed at him. ''What is it?''

''Since when did you get here?'' She asked him, confusion written all over her face.

He simply chuckled and made sure her seatbelt was put on safely. ''Me and Charles were waiting for you to be done.''

''Charles is here?'' Y/N reacted astounded, gasping when Arthur pointed at the man in the driver's seat. The Ferrari driver had a huge smile on his face, endeared by his little sister. ''I'm here, Y/N.''

The teenager mirrored his smile until she noticed something. ''Wait, he's driving the car?'' She looked at her mom, who nodded.

''No~ he can't drive!'' Y/N whined, trying to take her seatbelt off.

Arthur stopped her right away. ''No, no, no! You have to keep that on, it's for your safety.'' He held his sister's arms to prevent her from doing anything further.

''Why can't Charles drive, honey?''

''Because he's stupid.'' She made a reference to the infamous Baku qualifying when he planted himself into the barriers.

Their mom and Arthur cackled at the comment, while Charles just accepted it. He drove out of the parking lot and the family was on their way back home.

''Where's Enzo?'' Y/N asked them, noticing the eldest brother wasn't in the car.

''He's at work, he'll be at home soon.'' Pascale answered, staying as positive as she possibly could.

Arthur pulled his phone out, grinning ear to ear. ''You wanna FaceTime him?'' He searched for his brother's contact and handed the phone to her. Y/N took the phone and pressed the FaceTime button, excited to speak with her brother.

However, he didn't answer and his little sister didn't like it one bit. ''Huh?'' She stared at her own reflection on the phone screen, a puzzled look on her face. ''Why isn't he answering?'' Her voice wavered, an indication she was going to cry.

''No, chérie, he's probably just busy.'' Pascale immediately tried to comfort her, not wanting to deal with that at that moment, but her daughter wouldn't hear it. ''He hates me, he doesn't want to talk to me.'' She continued whining, wiping non-existent tears away.

''Y/N, he doesn't hate you, he loves you! More than anyone else.'' Charles helped his mom, being reminded of when his sister was a toddler and she would whine the exact same way.

She fell more quiet at his words. ''Charles, do you love me?'' The whining had died down and the question came out more genuine.

''Of course I do! You're my baby sister, you're my favorite person!'' Charles wasn't lying when calling her his favorite person. The two had a very close bond and she always brightened his gray days. If she wasn't busy with school, she was always there for him during the Grand Prix's. Maybe he had to tell her more that he appreciated her always being there for him, he didn't say it enough.

She smiled at his answer, but wasn't satisfied yet. ''Do you love me more than Arthur?''

Charles simply laughed at the question while Arthur expectantly looked at his older brother, also curious about the answer.

"What's that kind of a question? I love you both equally." He put an emphasis on the last word, glimpsing at both of them through the rearview mirror.

Arthur's attention went back to the phone, but the youngest still wasn't content. "Why? I'm so much better than Arthur and I'm also prettier than him." Y/N summed up the reasons why Charles should love her more, almost in a childish manner.

"You're lucky you just got out of surgery, Y/N" The youngest Leclerc brother semi-threatened the girl.

"You know, I would stick my tongue out at you, but I can't feel anything." She shot back at him, gathering some laughs from Charles and their mother.

It didn't take long for them to arrive back home. However, it did take a long time for them to get Y/N in the house. Arthur joked about the ground being lava and she refused to get out of the car.

''I'm gonna go to the grocery store and get Y/N her ice cream. Charles, you're in charge of your sister!'' Pascale didn't waste anymore words and was out of the door before her second oldest child could even respond.

Charles sighed loudly, but still made his way to the living room and sat next to his sister, who didn't seem to have a thought behind her eyes. ''You kinda look like Carlos right now, Y/N.'' He laughed, her stare reminding him of his teammate.

''I look hot?'' She asked him, her voice a little higher than usual.

He made a disgusted face, that wasn't what he meant. ''No, you just-''

''So you think I'm ugly? My face feels all swollen.'' Her emotions were all over the place. A few seconds before she was all excited about being compared to Carlos and now she looked like she could burst out in tears.

Charles slightly panicked. ''No, no! You're pretty, Y/N! You're beautiful!'' He put his arms around her, feeling bad for making her cry.

She slowly blinked her eyes at him. ''Really? Oh, Charlie! That's so nice! You're pretty too!'' The tears in her eyes were gone and a bright smile had returned to her face.

Her older brother giggled, entertained by his sister's actions. He flinched when the front door suddenly closed very loudly. He glanced behind him to see Lorenzo entering the living room.

''Hey, how did it go?'' He asked them, appearing in front of them.

Charles answered for her. ''Good, no complications at all.''

''Unlike Ferrari…'' Y/N mumbled, a smirk present.

Lorenzo chuckled at her words. ''Ah, see! The anesthesia didn't do anything to her, she's still the same.'' He sat down on Y/N's other side, so she was sat in-between them.

''Enzo! Oh my god! How did you get here?'' His sister looked at him wide-eyed, like she hadn't just seen him walk into the house.

He confusingly glanced at Charles, who continued to be amused by his sister. ''I took my car and I drove home from work.'' He answered, matter-of-factly.

''I missed you, but you didn't pick up when I called.'' She told him, Lorenzo's confusion grew even more by the sudden mood swing.

''You didn't call me.''

''She called from Arthur's phone.'' Charles clarified for him.

''Ah~ I thought it was Arthur, so I didn't pick up, but if I had known it was you, I would have definitely answered, Y/N.'' Lorenzo figured he had to be as optimistic as he could be, that way he couldn't upset his sister in any way.

Y/N blushed at his words. ''That's so sweet! I knew you liked me more than Arthur.''

The youngest Leclerc brother must have sensed he was being talked about as footsteps could be heard coming down from the stairs. The door opened and he gave the three of them a suspicious look. ''I heard my name.''

''You must have a very good hearing.'' Lorenzo teased.

''Whatever,'' Arthur brushed it off, ''I'm going, can you tell mom when she gets back?'' He didn't look at his siblings, focused on getting his shoes and jacket on.

''Where are you going?''

''Friends.''

Charles and Lorenzo were satisfied with the answer, not particularly interested in who these friends were. However, their sister was a curious cat. ''Are you gonna see Mick?''

Arthur looked at her for the first time since he came downstairs, frowning. ''Mick? Who? Mick Schumacher?'' He asked her, to which Y/N nodded with an innocent smile on her face.

''No, why? Do you like him?'' The three brothers focused on their sister and how her face became more red. ''I think someone has a crush.''

''Mick's too old for you, Y/N.'' Arthur concluded, grabbing his car keys. He bid them goodbye and was off to meet his friends.

Y/N watched him leave, an offended expression on her face. ''He's not too old for me.''

''He's like 7 years older than you, that's too much. There are plenty people of your age who would love to date you.'' Charles said, not even wanting to think about his sister dating any of the other drivers on the grid.

Lorenzo agreed with his younger brother. ''Yes, by the way, you are way too young to have a boyfriend,'' he told her more sternly, ''or girlfriend.'' He doesn't discriminate.

''And if you're gonna date someone, don't date people who do motorsport.'' Charles added.

''So, no Mick?''

Both brothers shook their heads at her question, amused by her disappointment.

''How about Sebastian? He's retiring.''

"..."

''I'm not even gonna answer that one, I don't want that image in my head.''

''What's it with you and older guys?''

charles_leclerc added to his story !

[sebscore]

BROTHER DUTIES | CHARLES LECLERC 

pairing: charles leclerc x sister!reader 

warnings: harassment. swearing. barking of a dog. 

word count: 1.8k 

author's note: reader is a teenager. feedback and requests are always welcome. 

• • • • • • •

''Charles, bring your sister to school and take Cinnamon with you. '' His mother yelled from downstairs. The young man groaned but got up from his desk anyway, knowing better than to ignore his mom's wishes. 

The Leclerc Family had been babysitting the dog from a friend of theirs, who was on a two-week trip to North America. He had asked the family if they would take his dog, Cinnamon, in for those two weeks and they had happily agreed. Cinnamon was a bulldog, who despite her appearance, was a very sweet and affectionate creature. The Leclerc siblings had gotten along great with the dog, especially their youngest, Y/N. She had always wanted a pet, but they move around a lot for Charles and Arthur's races and their mother doesn't want to put that kind of pressure on an animal. 

''Can't Enzo do it? I'm in the middle of a game, Maman.'' Charles complained walking into the kitchen, where his sister and mom were eating their breakfast. His mother gave him a stern look. ''He's not home and you should get out of your room for once.'' 

He sighed, but nodded anyway. ''Alright, I'll go get Cinnamon then.'' Charles left the kitchen in search of the dog, while also grabbing her collar. 

''Are you done, Chérie?'' Pascale asked the young girl, moving some strands out of her daughter's face. ''Yes, I'm done.'' Y/N got up from her chair and put her plate in the dishwasher. 

Charles walked back into the kitchen with Cinnamon on a collar. ''Ready to go, little monster?'' He asked his sister, all ready to leave the house. ''Charles, don't call me that, it's embarrassing.'' Y/N said, slapping her brother's arm. 

She grabbed her backpack and walked up to their mother. ''See you later, Maman.'' The youngest bid goodbye to her mother with a kiss on the cheek. Charles did the same after and the two Leclercs were out the door. 

''Did you have a lot of homework?'' Charles started the conversation. It had been a while since he and his baby sister had spent alone time together. She couldn't join him at most of his races, since she still went to school in Monaco and their mother didn't want her to abandon her education. In his opinion, he hadn't been a good older brother to her and he realized he should take this oppurtunity to catch up with her. 

Y/N shook her head, finding it amusing that Charles wanted to know about her homework. ''I just have a math test today.'' She answered him, while looking at Cinnamon. 

''Oh, well, you're good at math, that shouldn't be too hard.'' Out of all the things he could have started talking about, he asked about school aka the last thing teenagers want to talk about.

Y/N laughed out loud, not able to hold it in. ''Charles, you're so bad at talking.'' She teased her older brother. ''Hey, I'm not bad!'' He defended himself. 

''You keep telling yourself that,'' she told him, ''hey, can we stop by the kiosk?'' There was this kiosk a few minutes away from her school where students often bought their food and drinks. Charles looked at her in confusion. ''Why? You just had breakfast?'' 

''I just want a smoothie, Charles.'' She didn't wait for his reply and walked to the kiosk, Charles trailing behind her with Cinnamon. ''Hey, don't just walk away on your own like that.'' 

''I just remembered I forgot my wallet at home,'' she feigned innocence, ''do you mind paying?'' By the end of her sentence she had looked at him with doe-eyes, knowing it would work on him. 

He knew exactly what she was doing, but who was he to say no to a face like hers? ''Like I was going to let you pay anyway.'' He said, while pulling out his wallet from his pants. 

Y/N ordered what she wanted and waited by the space where they handed out the drinks, meanwhile Charles waited to pay. 

While he was busy texting someone back, he failed to notice the older man approaching the place next to his sister's. Charles also failed to notice the man inappropriately touching his sister. 

Y/N was in her own world, waiting for her smoothie to be handed over to her. She was pulled out of her trance when she felt someone's hand on her butt. She looked up to see the man giving her a smirk, before taking a few steps back. 

She was too shocked to say anything back to the man, standing in silence for a few seconds. She looked over at Charles who was just done paying for her drink. 

''Charles, that man just touched me.'' Y/N told him in a hushed tone, not wanting to make a big scene. ''What?'' His head swiftly turned to her, not believing what he was hearing. ''That guy who's sitting on the bench, he grabbed my ass.'' Her eyes started watering, feeling dirty from the creepy man's unwanted touch. 

Charles took a look at the man who was just checking out a woman coming out of her car. He was absolutely disgusted by this man's behavior. ''Wait for one second, here,'' he handed her Cinnamon's collar, ''I'll be right back.'' 

Before he could fully step away from her, she grabbed his arm. ''Charles, no, it's not worth it, we can just go.'' 

''No, Y/N! It's not okay that he did that and I'm gonna tell him that,'' Charles put his hand on her shoulder, ''you stay here with Cinnamon, your drink is almost ready.'' With that he turned around and walked up to the man. 

''Did you just touch my sister?'' Charles went straight to the point, not planning on upholding his ''nice guy'' demeanor. ''Your sister? I don't know what you're talking about, man.'' The smirk the man had on his face, pissed Charles off. It was as if he was proud that he had harassed someone. 

''Don't play pretend, you fucking touched my sister.'' Charles continued, not backing down when it came to his family. The man stood up from the bench. ''I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, little man.'' He was significantly taller than Charles, but that didn't intimidate the young Monegasque. 

''Apologize to my baby sister, you asshole.'' The man seemed to have the temperament of a toddler, because in a matter of seconds he grabbed Charles' shoulders and pushed him away, resulting in Charles almost falling to the ground. 

The man was about to continue, but Cinnamon came to his aid. She had been carefully watching the two interact and when the creep pushed Charles, she reacted quickly. Y/N didn't expect the dog to run towards her older brother and she wasn't able to hold on to her collar. ''Cinnamon!'' 

The dog didn't attack the man, but her barking was enough for him to take a couple of steps back and eventually walk away entirely. 

''Charles, are you okay?'' Y/N put her smoothie on the counter and ran to her brother, who had quickly grabbed Cinnamon's collar, so she couldn't potentially attack the man. 

Upon seeing his sister, he hugged the young girl. ''I'm fine, little one,'' he pulled back, but kept his free arm around her, ''you know, how about we go home?'' He suggested. 

''I don't know, Charles.'' She was hesitant about skipping school, not sure if it was a good idea or not. ''We're gonna go home, I'm sure Maman won't mind when we tell her what happened.'' He guided her back into the direction of their home, wanting to get away from the place as fast as possible. 

''Wait, don't forget your drink.'' 

◦◦◦

Pascale was confused as she heard her daughter back in the house. ''Y/N? Why aren't you at school?'' Her mother was about to start scolding the young girl for not going to school, but upon seeing her daughter's facial expression, she ran to get her girl in her arms. ''What happened, Chérie?'' 

''Some creep touched her, Maman!'' Charles exclaimed, taking the collar off Cinnamon. ''What do you mean someone touched her?'' Pascale took Y/N's face in her hands, observing if her daughter had anything on her face that indicated she got hurt or something. 

''Come here, my girl.'' Her mother engulfed her in a hug, feeling all the relief that she didn't seem to be physically hurt. ''I feel so dirty, Maman, he was so gross.'' Being in her mother's arms seemed to make all the emotions come undone in the young girl. Charles joined them, wrapping his arms around to two women he loved most in the world. 

''Go take a shower, Chérie. You'll feel much better after.'' Her mother urged her, pulling away from her embrace. ''Okay.'' With a kiss from her mom and Charles, she made her way to the bathroom. 

Charles could see his mother was distraught, so he pulled her in his arms. ''Don't worry, Maman. We'll keep her safe.'' 

Pascale loved all of her four children, but her baby girl will always have a special place in her heart. She adores her three boys, but she wanted nothing more in the world than to have a little girl that she could pamper for the rest of her life. So, when Y/N was born, it was like the gods had listened to her prayers. Their parents thought that the boys would have a problem with having a little sister, but as soon as Lorenzo, Charles and Arthur had held the newborn in their arms, all those worries went away. Her brothers would protect her with their lives. 

Y/N went to bed earlier than usual that night, reveling in the comfort of her own room. The other two brothers had been informed about the events of that day and Pascale had told them to give their younger sister some space. 

Charles was about to go into his own room, but he couldn't help but want to check up on her. He knocked on her door, but he didn't hear an answer, he figured she had already gone to bed. He quietly opened the door and saw her laying in her bed, but she turned around upon hearing her door open. 

''Hey,'' Charles sat himself down on her bed, ''how are you feeling?'' Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing how she felt about the situation. ''I don't know.'' 

''That's okay, that happens sometimes.'' He wanted her to know that whatever she was feeling, it was valid. She could feel however she wanted to feel. 

''Thank you for standing up for me, Charles.'' Her voice came out smaller than she wanted to, it made her feel low. ''You don't have to thank me for that, you're my sister.'' He jokingly squeezed her cheek, trying to make her feel a bit better. 

''Still, I really appreciate it.'' He could see in the way she was looking at him that she was grateful for his presence and for how he had stood up for her to the man. ''Go to sleep, Chérie, I'll see you tomorrow.'' Charles kissed her forehead and stood up from her bed. ''I love you.'' 

''I love you too.'' 

• • • • • • •

the first fic that I've written for charles. he's so precious, I can't.