#I have no idea about french I just google-translated it

[unrelatedsideblog]

I randomly remembered about admiral born in Germany who ditched Germany and come to Poland and it's navy. When he got cought by Germans during WWII, they tried to win him over to their side. Józef (I think that was his name...), however, declared that "1 September he forgot how to speak German". He remembered the language, of course, but during his imprisonment he spoke only in French (I think), and would insist on having a translator present if he was spoken to in German. Call it trolling

Basically I think that Sanji should do it with Vinsmokes. Just to be a petty little shit

like

Sanji on Sunny: *speaking to himself fluently and cursing flowery in French/whatever language we decide Germa 66 commonly speaks* *Time skip to Germa 66*: Ichiji: Bon retour parmi nous, mon frère. Sanji: *In East Blue common language* The fuck you're sayin'? Ichiji: De quoi parlez-vous ? Parlez-moi dans votre langue maternelle. Sanji: No idea what you're sayin'. I'm afraid I don't remember language anymore, too bad. Ichiji: ...

[snoopyracing]

birds of a feather // cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

word count: 30k (i know i've got issues)

warnings: google translate french and swearing

includes: friends to lovers, childhood bestfriends, soulmate au if you squint, heavy pining, and angst

summary: follows charles and the reader through childhood all the way to present day. based off of 'birds of a feather' by billie eilish.

masterlist

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

five and eight

It's a hot summer day in Monaco the first time Charles meets you.

The evening sun cascaded through the windows, golden rays bouncing off the walls as the smell of his Mother's baking wafted through the house. Charles' legs soon carried him into the kitchen and to his delight he found her oven-mitt clad hand pulling out a tray from the oven. His eyes widen when he sees what it is, it's one of his favorite sweet treats; cookies. His Mother spots him as she turns to set them on the counter. "Bonjour chéri!"

Charles doesn't answer, he's too focused on the cookies. He knows she won't let him have one, it's too close to dinner time, but he could probably sneak one when she had her back turned. So when she goes to put something back in the fridge he knows this is his chance, but he's not fast enough. His little hand barely hovers over one of the cookies before his Mother is gently smacking it away.

"No Charles! They are for the Y/L/N's." She hands him a stack of plates, motioning towards the table. "Now go set the table, s'il te plaît." Charles whines about it not being fair before stomping towards the table.

All day the only topic of conversation in the Leclerc household was about how an old family friend was to be moving back to Monaco today. Charles and Arthur had no idea who the man their Father spoke so highly about was, but Lorenzo mentioned something about him being their "uncle", but not really their uncle. Something that at only eight years old, confused Charles.

Even during dinner it seems like his Father mentions their "uncle" somehow during every conversation. Between the constant talk of this mystery man and the cookies sitting feet away from him Charles thinks tonight's dinner is the longest dinner of his life. He can see them sitting there, the cookies taunting him the whole time he tries to eat the unpleasant brussel sprouts on his plate. He hears his Father mention their "uncle" again and his attention is brought back to the conversation. "Papa. Is he really our uncle?" Charles asks as he shoves around the food on his plate with his fork.

"Ah, no. I mean he practically is, but not by blood. He is a very old friend of mine. We grew up together, but he moved to America around nine years ago." He pauses for a moment, eyes flickering between Charles and Arthur. "I hate that Arthur and you don't know him, but he's back now, so hopefully you boys will see him as an uncle like Lorenzo does. Plus, their house is just down the street, so I'm sure we will be spending lots of time with each other."

All Charles can do is nod at him, he isn't sure that he can call this random man "uncle", but for his Father he will try to like him as much as he clearly does.

Dinner is over shortly after their conversation, with a little help from his Father's impatience to go see his old friend. And before Charles can try and sneak a cookie again they are out the door, the cookies held securely in his Mother's hands, heading to their "uncles" house.

Charles realizes his Father wasn't lying when he said their house was just down the street, in fact it's only a block away. He's surprised his Father wasn't dragging them here earlier today with how close it is.

His Father knocks on the door and after a moment a man answers."Hervé!” 

"Y/D/N!"

The two men embrace each other, big smiles plastered on both of their faces. "If it was up to me we would have been over as soon as you guys arrived earlier today, but Pascale insisted we give you guys a little time to settle in."

"Oh nonsense. You're fine." The man steps aside, motioning for everyone to come in. "Come on in. Don't mind the million boxes scattered around."

"It's a beautiful home." Pascale states as she glances around.

"Merci."

The man's eyes wander to Charles and his brothers. His arms extend towards Lorenzo and the two of them hug, the man tousling Lorenzo's hair as they pull away. "Dieu te regarde! You're practically a man!"

Lorenzo can only laugh at the man, whose attention is now on the two youngest Leclerc boys. He crouches down so he's at eye level with them. "Bonjour. I don't think we have met yet. I'm Y/D/N, a very old friend of your Papa's." His hand reaches out for Charles to shake. "You must be Charles."

Charles gently takes Y/D/N's hand and shakes it, something he's seen his Father do hundreds of times. "I am. How did you know?"

A smirk plays at Y/D/N's lips. "When your Papa and I speak, he loves to talk about his boys. Even the ones I didn't get the pleasure of meeting until now." His attention now moved to the youngest Leclerc. "Like you little Arthur." Little giggles came from Arthur as the man pinched his cheek.

"Are we going to get to meet the other members of your family Y/D/N?" Pascale asks.

"Patience still isn't your strong suit, is it Pascale?" The man teases as he leads them towards the kitchen.

As they enter the kitchen they find a woman with an American accent putting away dishes into the cabinets. From what Charles can gather from the conversation the adults are having is that their "uncle" met his wife while on business in America. They fell in love and he ended up moving there to be with her. They got married and had a daughter. He wanted to raise her here so they decided to move back to Monaco.

"Guess you should all meet the reason we moved huh? Y/N! Ma chérie come here!" Y/D/N yells.

And here you came, barreling into the kitchen, not knowing that there were five strangers standing there until it was too late. Cheeks turning pink as you hid behind your Mom's legs. "This shy little thing is our daughter, Y/N."

Pascale's face lit up at the sight of you. "Oh tu n'es pas une poupée? She's beautiful you two!" She glances over at your parents then back to you. "You look to be around the age of my two youngest boys, no?" She squats down so the two of you are eye level as you peak around your Mom's legs. "How old are you?" As you lifted your hand, little fingers all stood up straight indicating that you were five, Pascale smiled. 

"Oh, that's the same age as my Arthur." She points towards the smallest boy, who's dirty blonde hair almost covered his eyes. She then points to the slightly taller boy in the middle, his soft blue eyes watching his Mom intently. "That is Charles, he's a little older than Arthur and you. He's eight." Then she finally points to the obviously very older son. "And that is Lorenzo, he's a lot older. It makes me feel old to say this but he's eighteen!"

Your shyness somehow slowly got chipped away by Pascale and you were now standing beside your Mom, not behind her. "Go on baby. Say hi to them." You Mom encouraged as she brushed your hair out of your face.

Even if you had braved coming out from behind your Mom's legs, the idea of talking to these strangers still scared you. You looked over to your Dad who stared back at you, a smile on his face and a slight nod in your direction told you everything was going to be okay.

"Hi." You said meekly.

The two younger boys gave you a small wave in return.

The adults had started to converse, leaving the kids to stand there awkwardly. Not knowing each other well to be the one to initiate conversation or play.

Your Mom had noticed the quietness between you and the boys, and your constant presence by her legs. "Why don't you kids go play out back? The house luckily came with a playset that is begging to be played on." She pulled open the sliding door, motioning for the kids to go outside.

Arthur was the first to run outside, he was practically already at the door when he heard the word playset. His little legs were already running up the slide by the time Charles and you had exited the house.

You watched your feet drag across the grass as you swung back and forth on the swing. Your Dad's voice playing in your head as you heard Charles and Arthur's laughter echo through the hot summer air.

"I know this is a big change for you mon amour. But I promise, we wouldn't have made this big move if your Maman and I didn't think it wouldn't have been a good idea. It may take some time for you to adjust, but knowing you, in a couple weeks you'll probably be more of a Monégasque than me!"

"I'm only half though. How could I be more than you Papa?" Tiny giggles escaping you as you gave your Father a questioning look.

"Anything is possible chérie! Plus you remember me talking about your uncle Hervé? Well, he has two boys that are around the same age as you. And I'm positive you three will become the bestest of friends like we were at that age in no time. When your Uncle Hervé and I were younger people would always say "Wherever there is a Y/L/N there is a Leclerc" and I'm sure it will live on through you three."

As you watched the two Leclerc boys chase each other through the yard, you knew your Dad would want you to get up and go join them. He seemed so excited at the idea of you and the boys being friends and you didn't want to disappoint him, but at only five years old, your shyness overruled the majority of your decisions.

Charles, even though he was playing with his brother, had noticed how you hadn't left the swing since coming outside. He tried to put himself in your shoes, he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to move halfway across the world.

What it would be like to leave everything you've ever known behind and move to a country that is nothing like the one you'd spent your whole life in so far. Even if your Father was from here and technically Monaco is as much of your home as America ever was, he knows that at least right now, this place means nothing to you.

So, being the empath that he is, Charles decides that it's his mission to make you feel at home. To make you realize that Monaco has been your home all along. That if he was you right now, all he would want is for someone to befriend him, make him feel less alone. His first step; asking you to play.

His skinny frame soon occupies the empty swing next to you, hands gripping the chains as he barely moves back and forth. His feet mimicked yours, dirt and grass staining his white sneakers.

"Hi." Charles watched as your head perked up at his voice. Your doe eyes timidly looking over at him like you weren't sure if he was speaking to you.

"Hi."

"Do you wanna play with Arthur and me?" Charles hopes you don't run back inside after hearing his question, but when your face lights up, head nodding enthusiastically, his worries dissipate. You were just so glad that he had come over and asked you, because you would have sat there on that swing all evening if he hadn't.

In a matter of minutes your shyness and worries about upsetting your Father were replaced with bouts of laughter as Arthur and you ran from Charles. Gleeful screams and giggles filled the evening air as the three of you played and for the first time since getting told you were moving you felt carefree.

The loud laughter and yelling had gotten the attention of the adults and as they watched their children play through the sliding glass door they couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces.

"That didn't take long did it?" Your Mom felt a relief wash over her. At only five years old she knew this move was going to be hard on you, and she wished they could have just stayed in America. But who was she to deprive you of experiencing the life that was quite literally half of you. Deprive her husband of seeing his little girl experience the same things he did as a child.

And as she watched the way the three kids played together she knew it was the right decision. For you to come out of your shell so quickly meant that maybe things weren't going to be so bad here after all.

"Of course it didn't." Your Dad stood behind your Mom, his hand on her shoulder as he watched his little girl laugh and run around. "Because wherever there is a Y/L/N-"

"there is a Leclerc." Hervé finished, an equally big smile on his face.

The painting of orange and pink hues that filled the evening sky told everyone that the sun was making her farewell for the day. Though, that didn't stop you and the boys from still playing and eventually as the colorful painting turned to a star filled sky you all were called inside.

Rosy cheeks and sweaty foreheads adorned all three of your faces as you clambered into the kitchen. "Looks like you kids had fun." Pascale had grabbed the cookies off the counter, but as she opened the lid to offer the kids one, she had a better idea. "How about some ice cream?" Charles' eyes lit up at the mention of ice cream. He loved cookies, but his one true love was ice cream. "I think the place down the road is still open."

And with an unspoken agreement, they are all out the door and headed towards the ice cream shop. Charles and you walk side by side with Arthur trailing behind the two of you. His complaints about being left out falling on deaf ears as Charles tells you about how good the ice cream place is.

The walk isn't a long one and before you realize it, you've arrived. The sickeningly sweet smell hits you as soon as you walk through the door, and your short legs carry you towards the counter, not paying mind to any sort of line that was already formed. Your face was practically pressed against the glass as you looked at all the flavors to choose from. But even with flavors like triple chocolate or strawberry or peanut butter cup. You always go with your tried and true; vanilla.

Charles and Arthur had joined you, faces as equally as close to the glass as yours.

"You think Maman will let me try them all?" Arthur asks, mouth practically watering at the sight in front of him.

"I don't know about that." You recognize your Dad's voice behind you. "You guys tell me what you want and then go wait at the table outside with Lorenzo." The three of you reluctantly turn away from the ice cream and when Arthur tells your Dad he wants mint, Charles and you share a disgusted look. "Ok mint for Arthur, what about you two?"

"Vanilla!" Comes out of both Charles and your mouth. Big smiles spread across your faces as you realize you both said the same thing.

"No way that's my favorite flavor!" Charles exclaims.

"Mine too!"

By the time your Dad comes outside with the ice cream Charles and you had established that; vanilla was the best flavor of ice cream ever, blue was your favorite color, red was his, you both loved dogs, and that he wanted to be a Formula 1 driver when he grew up. You didn't really know what that was, you think you had heard your Dad talking about it or watching it before, but the way Charles talked about it, it seemed like it was something big.

After many brain freezes and Arthur trying to make Charles and you try his mint ice cream, the night was coming to an end. The walk back home was filled with talks of things that you guys had to do this summer, according to Charles, and about how tonight would not be the last trip to the ice cream shop.

As you arrived at your house the grownups said their farewells and goodnights, while you gave everyone a simple wave goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow!" Charles yelled as you entered the front door, and all you could do was yell back.

"Ok!"

And Charles wasn't lying, you did see him the next day, and the day after that. In fact, any free day that you or the youngest Leclerc boys had were spent in each other's company that summer. By the time school started back up the three of you were inseparable. 

The idea of starting at a new school in a different country while knowing no one scared you, so you were glad to have Arthur with you in class and just knowing Charles was in the building made you feel more at ease. Any worries you had about moving to Monaco had dissipated and Charles had just somehow knew that he had accomplished his mission of making you feel at home. It may have taken him all summer, but you were practically family at this point to him.

So when he heard from Arthur about a couple boys in your class not being the friendliest towards you, something about you being an annoying American, he knew he had to defend you.

Charles fortunately had caught them in the act one day. Your cheeks slightly damp and eyes red told Charles it wasn't just them saying you were annoying. You wouldn't tell him what they said to you, but that didn't stop him from telling the boys off. It didn't take much for them to run off, heck Charles could have just stared at them and they probably would have darted, him somewhat forgetting they were probably only five or six, but still there was no reason for them to be mean to you.

Charles wiped away your tears before pulling you in for a hug. "They shouldn't bother you anymore, but if they ever do come tell me. You know you've always got me and Arthur and if it gets bad enough I guess we could tell Lorenzo." The mention of the oldest Leclerc boy made you giggle and Charles was so happy to see a smile on your face again. "You've always got me Y/N, we've got each other. I promise." He held out his pinky finger towards you and you hooked yours around his, officially sealing the promise

And from that moment on, you two always did have each other.

 ten and thirteen

Five years had passed since you first met Charles, and in those five years your bond only grew stronger. Not only with each other, but with each other's families too. To Pascale you were the daughter she always wanted and your Dad treated the Leclerc boys like his sons. It was like you guys filled in the missing pieces in each other's families.

Multiple scrapbooks were filled over the years with memories that would last a lifetime. Pictures of the joint family vacations that were taken every year, first and last day of school pictures, birthdays, and major milestones all filled the pages.

Looking back now your Mom could have kicked herself for ever second guessing the decision to move. Clearly this was where you guys were supposed to be, where you were supposed to be. Everything just felt right. It felt like home.

A new thing that had become a part of your life in the past five years was karting. No, you didn't drive them, but Charles and Arthur did. So, that meant it was now a part of you. Multiple weekends were spent going to watch them race, the smell of exhaust and the sound of the engines were ingrained into your brain, but you had grown fond of it.

Although, in the last couple years Charles had started to take karting very seriously. You knew his dream was to be an F1 driver, and you knew (from him teaching you everything about it one day) how much dedication it took from a young age to get to the top. So, over the last year, when almost every weekend he was busy, you tried not to take it to heart.

Unfortunately for Arthur, this year his family had decided to focus solely on Charles' career for the time being, as karting was expensive, and having two boys doing it was just not something they could swing. But with Charles busy and Arthur now free it was almost like the boys had flip flopped positions in your life.

Between the two youngest Leclerc boys it was always very obvious that you gravitated more towards Charles, the two of you having a bond that many didn't understand, especially considering your age gap.

Three years isn't crazy per say, but at the age you two are right now it's a little different. Charles is thirteen, officially a teenager, while you're still only ten. Two very different stages in kids' lives, and sometimes recently it seemed like Charles was moving on, or growing up, and you worried that he wouldn't want to spend time with you anymore. Because really what thirteen year old wants to willingly hang out with a ten year old? You know you wouldn't want to hang out with a seven year old. 

But the slight gap that Charles was currently leaving in your life, Arthur had no problem filling it in.

During the school year you spent basically all your time with Arthur, being in the same grade and him not dedicating all his time to karting at the moment was a big contributing factor. You still saw Charles, but nearly as much as you used to. He had moved up to secondary school a year or so ago and unfortunately Arthur and you were still in your last year of primary school. So your time to see Charles was limited to his rare free weekends and sometimes after school. 

You had thought come summer time you would be able to see him more and were banking on your annual family vacation, but you were wrong. In fact, you barely even saw Arthur this summer. They were so busy with Charles karting it was like they didn't even live in their home. And when they were home your family was busy doing something.

The annual family vacation had to be canceled and you had basically gone the whole summer without seeing them. That was until today, two weeks before school started, when you came downstairs to see Charles and Arthur sitting on your couch talking to your Dad, who was sitting in a chair opposite of them.

"Ah, there she is." Your Dad had spotted you from the doorway. "They've come to steal you."

Rounding the side of the couch you were now stood in front of the two boys. Arthur was the first to jump up from the couch, his arms squeezing you into him, the two of you slightly swaying back and forth as giggles escaped past your lips. "Tu m'as manqué aussi Arthur."

As Arthur finally let you go your eyes fell on the middle Leclerc boy, who was still sat on the couch. "Charlie." The nickname you had given him that first summer had still stuck around five years later. It fell off your tongue with ease, basically second nature for you at this point. He never minded when you called him that, in fact sometimes he preferred it, but god forbid anyone else call him that.

You could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, dimples peaking out as he tried to resist it more. As he stood up from the couch he finally let it free, the corners of his eyes crinkled and dimples on full display as he wrapped his arms around you. You noticed you guys weren't almost the same height anymore, your head hit at about his shoulder now. Had he gotten taller since the last time you saw him? There was no way he had grown that much in almost two months, but yet the proof was standing right infront of you.

"Tu m'as manqué." Charles stated as he pulled away from the hug.

"I figured you'd have your kart seat stuck to you when I saw you again."

"Well when that seat becomes an F1 seat, I know who will be the last person I invite to a race."

You wedged yourself between the two brothers on the couch as you rolled your eyes at Charles. "Yeah I won't need an invite because I'll have a permanent paddock pass." You weren't even sure if such a thing as a permanent paddock pass existed, but when Charles makes it into Formula 1, you had better have one.

"No doubt about it." Charles states, which gets him a smile from you in return.

"So what was Papa talking about? You guys are stealing me?"

"We've got something fun planned." Charles had a small smile on his face as he made eye contact with you. And as you stared back at him you noticed something else that had changed in the past two months, his hair. It was shaggy and almost covered his eyes if he didn't have it pushed to the side. You were surprised Pascale hadn't made him cut it yet, or that she hadn't snuck into his room at night and at least trimmed the hair around his face. It was just another sign of how long it had been since you'd seen each other.

You glanced over at your Dad, unsure of what "fun" they had planned, but he was no help. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise." Charles had stood up from the couch, eyes staring back down at you. "Well come on. We don't have all day."

"Be careful! Je t'aime!" Your Dad hollered as the three of you walked out the door.

"Je t'aime aussi!" You hollered back.

The warm sun beat down on you as you walked the familiar streets of Monaco, following the two boys in front of you. Your insistent pleas of wanting to know where you were going were ignored. And it didn't take long for you to just start guessing random places, which were all met with groaned no's from the boys.

Thankfully you guys had arrived at your destination because you were running out of places to name, but the place you were standing in front of was not where you had expected to end up. Though truly you should have known better.

"Did you guys really just bring me here to watch you two drive go-karts?" Of course they brought you to the track. It wasn't like you didn't like watching them race or even just screw around on the karts, but as of recently it was the one thing that was keeping Charles away from you. It just would have been nice to do something that didn't involve karting.

"We aren't the ones who are going to be driving them." Arthur's devious little smile on his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I don't think that's safe, and don't we need an adult with us?" So perhaps you were slightly scared at the idea of driving – no you were actually more worried than scared. You didn't want to seem like an idiot because you didn't know what to do or wreck and make a fool of yourself. That little shy five year old girl was slowly creeping back in as Arthur and Charles practically dragged you inside.

"The adult is already here." Charles points at Lorenzo who's filling out paperwork at the front counter. "I think it's time for you to learn, no?" Your eyes focus on Lorenzo, praying as an adult he has enough sense to not let this happen. But it was no use, he had already handed the worker the paperwork and was walking towards you with a bunch of gear in his hands.

"No chickening out this time petite soeur. Today is the day." Lorenzo stated.

Before you can even protest anymore Lorenzo is handing you all this stuff to put on, arms overflowing as you stare at him wide-eyed. "Do I really need all of this for" you glance over at the track then back at Charles "an indoor track?"

"Safety first Y/N. Plus you need to have the full karting experience." His dimples on display as he gives you a reassuring smile, that somehow works wonders on you, because you're putting on all the gear without him even asking. "Oh wait you're gonna need this." He slides a hair tie off his wrist and hands it over to you. His action put a smile on your face as you quickly tied your hair back.

It was something Charles had done for a couple years now, always having a hair tie on him. You were always pushing your hair out of your face or complaining about it being hot and of course you never had a hair tie with you. So, he just started wearing one on his wrist, so when you eventually needed one, he was there to provide.

With your gear on you guys walked over towards one of the karts and you made sure to listen intently as Charles explained how to work everything.

You slipped the helmet on and sat down in the kart, praying that you could remember what Charles had told you. "You've got this. Just remember what I said and we will be right here if you need us. I’ll be right here. I promise." Charles holds out his pinky finger, the familiar gesture between the two of you meant much more than just a simple promise. And as you hook your finger around his, you know it's going to be okay. "Please be careful. I think your Papa will have my head if you come back with even just a scratch." Lorenzo says as he double checks that you're strapped in well enough.

"I'll be fine."

You gave Charles one last final glance, who stood there giving you a thumbs up, before pressing your foot down on the accelerator. At first you were going so slow, scared that if you went too fast you were gonna wreck. But as you completed a couple laps you started to feel more comfortable and the cheers from the boys helped you out too.

"Floor it!" Arthur yells as you pass by on another lap.

You were really starting to have fun, so you listened to Arthur and pressed the pedal all the way down on the next straightaway. You felt like you were flying, but what you didn't know was that they had put you in the slowest kart, so you really weren't going as fast as you thought you were.

After a couple more laps Charles stood by the starting line, waving the checkered flag, a cheesy grin on his face as you passed by him. As the kart came to a stop you understood why they loved karting so much, it wasn't just fun, it was exhilarating, addicting, you already wanted to go again.

The boys surrounded the kart as you undid the straps and climbed out. As you took off the helmet you couldn't wipe the grin off your face. "Looks like you might have some competition Charles." Lorenzo teases.

Charles ignored his big brother's teasing and shifted his focus back to you. He had felt bad about not seeing you all summer and in all honesty not that much over this past year. But things in his life were changing, karting was becoming a much bigger deal, and he was winning, like a lot. He knew things were only going to go up from here. And as much as he loved racing, and god did he love it, he breathed it he dreamt it, racing was in his blood. There just weren't many times anymore where he felt like a thirteen year old, like a kid. It sometimes felt like he was missing out on things.

But Charles knew that when he came home from a busy weekend or practically a whole summer filled with racing, that things would always be the same at home. His Mom would always make spaghetti on Tuesday nights, you had to jiggle the handle on the gate to the backyard to get it to open, if you went into the ice cream shop on a Thursday night when the owner wasn't there you'd get extra ice cream, the lady across the street will yell at your for playing in the street, and you will always be a couple houses down. 

He knew that when he was around you that he could feel like a kid again. Sure, he had made plenty of friends through racing, but it seemed like all their conversations always somehow revolved or ended up referring to racing. Which wasn't a bad thing, because of course Charles loved racing. But sometimes he just wanted to talk about video games or other sports, or just something random. And he could do that with you.

Now granted, for someone who wanted to have a little break from racing before school started, you'd think he wouldn't be back at a track the first chance he got. But Charles had wanted to teach you how to kart for years, but each time he had mentioned it you chickened out. So he had finally gotten the nerve, with a little help from Lorenzo and Arthur, to just force you to learn.

He knew you'd do a good job, he never had a doubt. It was just your worries that prevented you from learning earlier. He knew you had grown to love the sport, from tagging along to some of his races, or how you can't wait for the Monaco grand prix every year, not to mention how glued you are to the TV when his free weekends and the F1 schedule line up. So, somehow in his own weird way, Charles knew you'd be a natural.

"You did do a good job, I'm proud of you." Charles flashes you a smile as you guys exit the track.

"Merci Charlie." You quickly shed all the gear and handed it back to Lorenzo. "I don't know why you guys didn't teach me earlier. That was so much fun. I see why you guys love it so much."

"Don't act like we haven't tried for years to get you to learn." Charles teases. "We basically just had to force you today."

Memories of all the past failed attempts at teaching you how to kart flooded your mind. The one time you hid in the bathroom claiming to be throwing up, the time you 'tripped' on your way into the building and said you sprained your ankle, or the many times you just flat out refused. So maybe them forcing you was for the better, because you wouldn't have taken the initiative on your own to learn.

"Whatever. At least I finally learned."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The walk back to your house was filled with Charles filling you in on his exciting karting filled summer. From the new friends he had made to the races he had won, he didn't spare any detail. And you just walked beside him, listening to his every word, grateful to just have him back around. Arthur would pipe in occasionally to contradict something Charles had said, fulfilling his little brother duties. And as the three of you traveled through the principality, the summer sun high in the sky, you wished every day could be like this.

The fragrant jasmine shrubs that lined the sidewalk told you guys that you were close to home. "You guys wanna stay for dinner? It's Friday which means Mom's making something pasta related."

Charles would never turn down a Friday night dinner at your house and so he had no trouble in accepting your invitation. Arthur declined, stating that he was going to hang out with some of his other friends, and Lorenzo had split from you guys at the track. Which meant it was just Charles and you, which was fine with you.

The smell of your Mom's famous red sauce, that she swore had to cook for at least half the day, filled your nostrils as you walked through the door. "Mom! Papa! I’m home!"

"In the kitchen!" You heard your Mom shout.

You found your Mom furiously stirring something on the stove as Charles and you sat at the island counter directly in front of her. She tore her attention away from her cooking just long enough to notice Charles was with you. "Well look who's back! I hope you're staying for dinner?" A big smile accompanied her words as she spoke to Charles.

"Of course, you know I love Friday pasta nights."

"Well it's still gonna be a little bit until everything is ready, so if you kids are hungry grab a little snack or something." Her attention was already back to the bubbling pot in front of her before she had finished speaking.

Charles' stomach had been growling the whole walk home, and now sitting here smelling your Mom's cooking had it growling even more. So, he took up her offer and grabbed two tangerines from the bowl of fruit on the counter. Without even thinking about it, he peeled the first one and handed it over to you.

"You're spoiling her by peeling that for her Charles." Your Dad stated as he walked into the kitchen.

Charles shrugged at your Dad's comment as he continued to peel his own tangerine. "I don't mind it. I know she doesn't like to peel them and it's really not a big deal to me. So I guess as long as I'm around she won't have to."

You never gave a second thought about Charles peeling your fruit for you. He's done it ever since you expressed your dislike for peeling them years ago. To you it wasn't you being spoiled, it was just your best friend doing something nice for you. You gave Charles a smile as you popped another piece of the tangerine in your mouth. "Merci Charles." As you looked back towards your parents, you caught them staring at each other, eyebrows slightly raised, and smiles on their faces. "What?" You questioned.

"Oh nothing sweetie." Your Mom answered, attention turning back to the food. She knew you'd figure it out eventually.

The topic of conversation during dinner was all about karting. Your parents wanted to know all about Charles' wins and if anything exciting had happened during any of his races. Charles truly was like a son to them, granted all three of the Leclerc boys were, but you knew Charles was their favorite. They sat there listening intently as he told them everything and your Dad gave him nothing but praises back.

"You're gonna do great things Charles. I just know it."

And finally when Charles changed the conversation to how he finally taught you how to kart, your Dad though first worried at the idea of you getting hurt, was ecstatic to hear that you were quite good and that you enjoyed it. Your Mom didn't like the idea at all, the sour look on her face told you everything. "I can barely handle watching Charles, let alone my baby."

"I was the only one on the track, Mom. Plus it was just for fun, you don't have to worry about me doing the real thing. I really was not as good as Charles says I was." You tried to reassure her, but she still didn't seem pleased.

"Maybe it will help to know that we put her in the slowest kart." Charles chimed in.

Your head whipped to the right of you, where Charles was sat. "You put me in the slowest one?! You really thought I’d be that bad?"

"It was your first time! You were nervous as is, let alone putting you in a fast one."

A scoff came from you. "I feel cheated out of a real experience."

"Well, the slowest is fine with me. In fact, how do we find one slower than the slowest?" Your Mom inquired, nothing shy of a serious look on her face.

As dinner came to an end Charles and you helped clean up and then ventured out back. The sun had just set, allowing for dusk to settle in, the remnants of the sunset still lingering in the sky. The two of you found yourselves on familiar territory, the swings. The metal chains had slightly rusted over the years, but still held strong as the two of you swayed back and forth on them.

Silence fell between the two of you as you tried to figure out how to talk to Charles about the thing that had been subconsciously bothering you for a while. 

Him forgetting about you. 

He had his head down, staring at his feet as he slowly swung back and forth on the swing. "Charles?" He lifted his head at the sound of your voice, blue eyes slightly covered by his shaggy hair.

"Yeah?"

Your hands gripped the chains tighter as you stilled your movements, feet planted firmly in the worn patch of grass. "I need you to make me a promise."

He had copied your actions, even going as far as turning slightly to face you as he spoke. "For what?"

"I need you to promise that you won't forget about me. That when you make it into F1 and become super famous that you won't think I'm some loser. Or even when you move up to F3, just please promise me you won't forget about me."

Charles frowned at your words, never in a million years would he forget about you, or think you were a loser. He didn't want to get into F1 to become famous, yeah it was a perk of the job, but he wanted a seat in F1 because he loved racing, and it meant that he was one of the best in the world.

He held out his pinky finger towards you. "Do you remember what I said to you when those boys were teasing you during your first year here?" You shook your head, the memory replaying in your mind. "That you’ve always got me and I’ve always got you. So that means I don't think I could ever forget about you Y/N, whether I make it into F1 or not. And If I do, I'm gonna need my number one supporter there by my side aren't I? So I promise I won’t forget you."

A big smile spread across your face at his words and as you hooked your pinky finger around his, you knew the promise was true.

But what you didn't know was that sometimes promises are broken.

thirteen and sixteen

Thirteen is a very weird year for you. 

It’s not puberty or the ever revolving drama that comes with being thirteen that is making it a weird year. It’s the embarrassingly painful crush you’ve got on Charles. 

It’s a cliche really, having a crush on the cute older boy you’ve grown up with. 

And one might ask why is it embarrassing? For starters, you can’t be around him for more than five minutes without turning into a blushing mess. He stares at you for longer than a second? Game over. He smiles at you? Done for. He laughs at something you said? You’re dead. 

He doesn’t know he’s turning your thirteen year old brain into mush just by simply existing and it’s embarrassing to even think about him knowing that. 

On the other hand, it’s painful. You’re thirteen and he’s sixteen, once again at very different stages in life. And you know that he doesn’t like you back, that he only sees you as a little sister, but it still hurts. It hurts because you’re thirteen and you think that you’re mature for your age and you honestly think why wouldn’t he like you back. It’s something almost every young girl goes through, and unfortunately it’s happening to you with someone you are very close with. 

Yes, you had always thought he was cute, but that's because he was. That fluffy brown hair, long thick eyelashes that adorned his pretty eyes, his dimples, the little crinkles by his eyes when he smiled. Okay– so maybe that's how you would describe him now, but still, he was a cute kid also, there was no denying that. 

 But if you really had to figure out when you realized you had a crush on Charles it had to have been this past Christmas.   

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The holidays in Monaco were somewhat different than the few years you remembered back in America. You had stopped celebrating Thanksgiving after your Mom’s failed attempt at trying to make a Thanksgiving dinner your first year here. It wasn’t that your Mom was a bad cook, it was that it was somewhat hard to find everything needed for a Thanksgiving dinner in Monaco. And as hard as your Mom tried to make it work, it just wasn’t the same without that damn Ocean Spray cranberry sauce. 

So to make up for not celebrating Thanksgiving your family truly went all out for Christmas. The couple Christmases that you could remember back in America were nothing shy of magical, but ever since moving to Monaco, your family took Christmas very seriously. There was no denying that part of your household was American, because every year your house looked like it came straight out of a cult classic Christmas movie. Like Kevin McCallister or Clark Griswold had taken up residence in Monaco for the holidays. 

It wasn’t just the outside that was decorated, the inside was just as festive and of course the tree was the main focal point. It was a busy tree, your Mom never liked an aesthetically pleasing tree, it was sentimental or nothing to her. Ornaments that were passed down on her side of the family, ones you had made in school, and some you had gotten after moving all had a home on the tree. 

And as if decorating wasn’t enough for your family, your traditions were even more of a big deal. The most important one to you though was making cookies on Christmas Eve. Mainly because Arthur and Charles had been doing it with you since your first Christmas in Monaco. 

Christmas music played on the record player in the living room, the sound traveling into the kitchen as your Mom and you made sure you had everything ready to bake. You were in your own little world, picking out your favorite cookie cutters and humming along to Wham!’s Last Christmas when you heard your Mom speak up. “You’re just in time Charles.” 

Your eyes moved away from the pile of cookie cutters up to the garland decorated doorway where Charles was standing. A smile slowly crept its way onto your face as the two of you made eye contact. He looked cozy, the sweater he had on was slightly oversized and his hair had a messy fluffy look to it. 

You watched as he talked to your Mom, she was surely talking to him about racing, and he would always gladly answer her questions, as she was nothing shy of a second Mom to him. The longer you stared at him, you could feel your heartbeat quickening. And a feeling was arising in you that you had only ever experienced with a boy in your class a year or so ago.  Though, the feeling didn’t last long, you had caught him picking his nose, and with that went away any feelings you had towards him. 

You didn’t even want to think about the word that was happening right now, the idea of it only making your heart race even faster. You tore your eyes away from Charles and noticed that the youngest Leclerc brother was missing, so you blamed your rapid heart beat and surely pink cheeks on that.

You cleared your throat and tried to gather yourself before speaking. “Where’s Arthur?” 

Charles' attention was torn away from your Mom over to you. He pursed his lips, he didn’t know how to say nicely that Arthur said that baking Christmas cookies was for little kids, and he wasn’t a little kid anymore. He let out a sigh before speaking. “He’s not coming, he said he’s too old to be baking cookies.”

“But its-” 

“I know. I told him that it’s tradition and that you would be upset, but he wasn’t budging. So you’re stuck with just me.” 

It annoyed you that Arthur had bailed on you. There was no such thing as being too old to bake cookies, he was just being a jerk. And as far as you were concerned, he’s not allowed any of the cookies when your families have Christmas together tomorrow evening. 

On the bright side you get to have some one on one time with Charles, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise– Arthur bailing on you. You picked up the recipe card from the counter, waving it around in the air. “Well let’s get to work then.” 

Charles is at your side in an instant, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater as he waits for further instruction. 

“Do you think you kids can handle doing it by yourselves this year? I’ve got some last minute gifts that need to be wrapped.” Your Mom inquired, hopeful that you wouldn’t burn the house down on Christmas Eve. 

You didn’t even look up at her, eyes focused on the recipe in front of you, this was clearly something you took seriously. “Yes Mom.” 

Without a word she was gone, leaving Charles and you to your own devices. 

You can feel Charles peering over your shoulder. He’s practically right up against your side and you can feel the soft material of his sweater on your arm. All you can smell is his cologne, something he had started to use within the last year or two, thankfully moving on from the Axe body spray phase. And you’re trying not to make this seem like a big deal, because it’s truly not, but something has shifted in your thirteen year old brain. The same brain being scrambled by him right now, and you think you’ve read the damn recipe card at least ten times now. 

“Did you forget that the recipe is in American measuring terms?” Charles asks. The recipe was your Grandma’s and your Mom had never been bothered to convert it to the metric system. 

“Nope, just double checking everything.” You force a smile as you set down the recipe card and grab a mixing bowl. You added all the ingredients and made Charles do all the labor, which meant he had to mix it and then roll out the dough. 

You dug through the pile of cookie cutters looking for Charles favorite one. “Herree it isss.” You spoke in a sing songy voice as you held up the cookie cutter to Charles. His favorite in question? A penguin with a Santa hat on. Without fail, every Christmas, for the past eight years. Charles made an excessive amount of Santa hat penguin cookies. 

A grin spread across his face as you placed it in his hand. “Wouldn’t be Christmas without this guy.” He wasted no time in pressing the cutter down into the dough and before you guys knew it the first batch was done and in the oven. 

As you started on the next batch Charles kept a close eye on the baking cookies. The two of you allowed for Michael Buble to fill silence in the air and the mouthwatering smell of the cookies soon filled your nostrils. “You know you still call her Mom?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at Charles' random statement. “Huh?” 

He walked away from the oven and back to his original spot next to you. “You still call your Maman Mom.” 

“Yes?” You weren’t really sure where he was going with this, it was nothing new to either of you. 

“I just figured by now you would have made the switch. You speak French with everyone else.” 

You shrugged your shoulders at him, you had never really considered it, the idea felt weird even just thinking about it now. “I’ve always spoken English with my Mom and French with Papa. It would feel weird to switch stuff around now.” You stirred in the flour as you continued the conversation. “You know I could give you some English lessons if you’d like. I think that might have been what you were hinting at.” You teased. 

Charles' eyes widened at your words. “Are you saying my English is not good? I think I speak English very good!” 

“Well.” You didn’t skip a beat. 

“What?” 

“You think you speak English very w-” 

In an instant there is flour all over the upper part of your body, your movements stilled as you’re processing what Charles had just done. You’re mad at first, actually seething because your hair looked so good today and now it’s covered in flour. And you can’t see Charles because you haven’t moved an inch since he threw the flour at you, but he went from having a shit eating grin on his face to a oh shit expression. Your quietness has him worried that you’re actually really pissed at him, but when he hears his nickname come past your lips he knows you're not that mad at him. 

“Charlie. You better run.” 

He isn’t sure he’s heard you right, but when he sees you pick up the whole bag of flour his sock clad feet are sliding on the floor as he runs around the other side of the kitchen island. You're playing cat and mouse around the island for quite some time. The beeping from the oven time ignored multiple times as giggles from both of you filled the room. 

As Charles rounds the corner again his foot catches on one of the barstool legs and you know you’ve finally got him. He doesn’t fall, but he slips just enough to allow you to fully catch up to him. And you may or may not have thrown the whole bag of flour at him, but him being covered head to toe in flour says it was the whole bag. You definitely got him 10x worse than he did you and from that gleam in his eye you know what he’s going to do, but you can’t get away fast enough and his arms are around you in an instant. He shakes his head trying to get as much of the flour off of him and onto you and by you trying to free yourself from his grip he’s transferred a good amount from his clothes onto yours. “Charles! Let me go!” Your pleas are pitiful, laughter dripping off every word. 

“Oh my god!” 

Both of your eyes widen, bodies frozen at the sound of your Mom’s less than pleased voice. The two of you sheepishly stood there as your Mom looks like she’s about ready to cry and cuss you out at the same time. “I can’t leave you two alone for an hour?!” Her eyes shift to behind the two of you, panic written across her face. She’s practically running towards the oven and that’s when you realize the burning smell. And when she not so softly sets the cookie sheet onto the counter you know she’s really not happy. The cookies were burnt to a crisp, the poor Santa hat penguin never stood a chance. “I’m sorry Y/M/N. It was my fault, I started it.” Charles rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. 

“I don’t care who started it because you’re both cleaning up this mess.” A deep sigh came from you Mom as she really took in just how big of a mess the two of you had made, her head shaking in disapproval as she left the two of you to clean up. 

When you knew she was out of earshot you couldn’t but let out a little giggle, it was like in school when you weren’t supposed to be laughing, but everything is just so funny, and Charles follows your actions seconds later. The two of you fools, covered in flour, cookies burnt, and in trouble as you stood there laughing. 

That night you couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in your bed, your brain would not shut off. And it wasn’t because you were excited for Christmas morning, you only wished that was the reason. You couldn’t get how good it felt to have Charles arms wrapped around you out of your mind, or how that stupid sweater made him look even more attractive than he already was. 

As you stared up at the ceiling, you knew you were screwed. You had a big fat crush on Charles and it was going to ruin your life. You knew he only saw you as a little sister and that made everything so much more worse to you. Why did you have to develop feelings for him of all people? 

Christmas morning came and went and before you knew it evening had arrived, meaning the Leclerc’s would be arriving soon. You were in charge of setting the table, a task you didn’t mind, considering being in the kitchen with your Mom on any holiday was like asking to get yelled at. As you folded the last napkin neatly and placed it in its rightful spot you heard commotion coming from the front door, undoubtedly the Leclerc’s arriving. You spotted Pascale struggling to juggle all the presents and you hurried towards her, quick to offer a hand. “Merci chéri.” A grateful smile painted across her face.

The pile of presents grows as you place them under the tree and you’d think your family hadn’t already opened some this morning. Everyone settles into their usual spots in the living room, but your usual spot by Charles is left empty, as you’ve scurried into the kitchen. You’d rather face the unwarranted wrath from your Mom than be unable to compose yourself around Charles. But you don’t get to hide in the kitchen for very long because she’s practically done with everything, so you help her bring in all the food to the table, and admire your table setting skills as you do so. 

Dinner is pretty uneventful and luckily your Dad has Charles preoccupied with racing talk for most of the time. But you can’t help but catch his eye from across the table every once in a while and every time you do your heart skips a beat. By the time presents start getting passed around you had successfully avoided Charles for most of the day, but that is ruined when he plops down next to you on the floor, shoulders brushing as he gets situated. 

“Are you mad at me for yesterday?” Charles' voice is low, like he didn’t want anyone to hear, but he could have talked at full volume, no one would have heard him over how loud your Dads were being. 

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.” 

Your fingers toyed with the lifted corner of wrapping paper on the present in front of you, your brain trying to figure out what to say. Yes, you had been avoiding him, but it wasn’t because you were mad. It was actually the opposite, but you couldn’t tell him that. “I’m not mad at you. Just didn’t want there to be another flour fiasco today. You thought she was mad yesterday, now imagine that while she’s in her holiday cooking zone.” You give him a reassuring smile, hoping that he’s bought what you’ve told him. But he doesn’t get the chance to respond as your Mom’s voice fills the room. 

“Ok does everyone have all their presents? Our Santa this year was less than enthusiastic about handing out the presents.” Your Mom shoots Arthur a look as he sits down on the floor across from Charles and you. 

“There is nothing left under the tree. I promise.” Arthur states. 

“Alright then everyone get after it!” 

Piles of wrapping paper fill the empty spots on the floor in no time and excited gasps fill the room as everyone unwraps their gifts. You’re always so grateful for everything the Leclerc’s get you for Christmas, they treat you like one of their own, and sometimes you feel they spoil you a little too much. 

With each present that you unwrapped that wasn’t from Charles, you start to get a little worried. You guys exchanged presents every year and if he didn’t get you something this year, you think you might die. So when you come to your last present and it says it’s from his parents, you try to hide your disappointment, especially because it’s an amazing gift. You hop up from your spot on the floor and make sure to go thank them personally, hugs and all. And you’re pretty sure you hear them say something about how you’re their daughter too and how you deserve it, but your brain is still thinking about how Charles didn’t get you anything. 

When you go back to your spot a little perfectly wrapped box with a bow on it is sitting there. You know you weren’t sitting on that, so it had to be placed there after you got up. You think it’s one of Charles that he forgot about, but when you bend over to pick it up you see Charles sloppy handwriting on it. A smile spreads across your face as you look over at Charles who has an equally big one on his. You quickly sit down, eager to know what’s inside. 

“Did you think I didn’t get you anything?” Charles questions, a smirk toying at his lips. 

“Maybe.” Yes. 

“I would never.” He bumps his shoulder into yours, motioning for you to open it. “Well, go on. What are you waiting for?” 

You don’t want to seem like you're absolutely ripping into the present, but it probably looks like you are. It’s a tiny box, like one used for jewelry, and you really aren’t expecting Charles to have gotten you jewelry. But when you open the box, nestled in the velvet cushion, is a ring. You glance over at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then back to the ring. It’s just a simple sterling silver ring and somewhat on the smaller side. To be honest Charles could have gotten you a bag of candy and you would have been happy to have just gotten something from him, let alone a ring. 

But when you pick the ring up from the box you see exactly why it’s smaller, and it makes your heart swell. On the inside of the ring you see the words pinky promise engraved into it and as you look over at Charles, he’s holding out his pinky finger, a matching ring adorning it. Your cheeks are hurting from how hard you're smiling, but you don’t care. It’s the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever gotten you and as you slide it onto your pinky finger you feel yourself smiling even more, if that’s possible. Your arms are around Charles instantly, pulling him in towards you, thank you’s tumbling out of your mouth as he giggles in response. 

“I’m glad you like it.” He pauses, trying to figure out the right words to say. “Things are changing. I’m moving up from karting and hopefully into Formula 3 within the next year. It’s just a reminder that we’ve always got each other, even if I’m gone racing or you’re off doing something, we can look at the rings and know we’ve got a piece of each other with us, always.” 

You can’t stop smiling at him, and that crush you’ve got has tripled in size in a few short hours. Your teenage brain over exaggerates everything and you basically think this means you’re gonna be together forever, even though you aren’t even together. 

While you’re in make believe land, your parents are observing the two of you. Whispers and knowing glances are exchanged, between them and your Moms can’t help but think it’s cute how close the two of you are. While your Dad in particular, no matter how he feels about Charles, thinks no boy is good enough for his little girl, let alone some sixteen year old boy. 

Perhaps you may be a little dramatic when you say that this Christmas was the best one you’d had so far, but honestly it was the truth. Sure you realized you had a huge crush on Charles that will probably end in tears, but you also got the most thoughtful gift ever, that you will cherish forever. So yeah, this was a good Christmas, crush aside. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

And so you lived with admiring Charles from afar for months. Enjoying what time you got together and just holding out hope that maybe one day he wouldn’t see you as his little sister. But life had a funny way of hitting you in the face with reality, especially at thirteen. 

When Charles shows up to a joint family dinner one night with a girl around his arm you feel like all the air has escaped your lungs. And when he introduces her to everyone as his girlfriend you plaster on a smile even though you feel like someone has pulled your heart out of your chest and ran it over multiple times.

It’s the longest dinner of your life and while everyone gushes over his girlfriend, asking her all about her life and interests, you poke your food around with your fork. It’s not like you have an appetite anyways, getting your heart broken will do that to you. And it sucks even more because she’s so nice, like insanely nice, you couldn’t even hate her if you wanted to. Not to mention how pretty she was, she was everything, and you were some pimple faced, awkward bodied thirteen year old. 

You fidget with the ring on your finger and your heart races at the idea of Charles not wearing his anymore, your eyes glance over at him and when you spot the ring still on his finger it calms you a little. But that still means nothing, just that he clearly still sees you as a little sister. What you don’t see is how your Mom has been watching you the whole night. You’ve never told her about your feelings towards Charles, but she’s your Mom, she just knows things. And she knows you're hurting right now, so when she changes the topic of conversation at the table you’re eternally grateful. 

It’s an early night for you that night, not bothering to join everyone for a game of UNO, claiming that you aren’t feeling well. When really you couldn’t wait to go upstairs and just cry it out. What did you do to deserve something like this? It hurt so bad, but you knew there was nothing you could do about it. And as you laid in bed that night all you could think about was how are you going to live without him liking you back?

sixteen and nineteen

Newsflash you do live without Charles liking you back. In fact your crush goes away by the end of that year, no thanks to the new boy in your grade, who eventually ends up being your boyfriend. But it was safe to say you were over Charles, at least you think you are. 

Charles, on the other hand, stayed with the girl who made you go crazy at age thirteen for over a year, but they broke up over text. And to your disappointment, Charles never told you the reason why. Ever since then it’s been somewhat of a revolving door of girls in Charles' life. Okay – maybe not a revolving door, but at least three different girls in the past two years. None of them lasted for more than a couple months though, and it was getting to the point where no one in either of your families got to know the girls.

Everyone knew that they would be gone sooner than later. After his last “breakup” a couple months ago, he hadn’t brought around a new one, he claimed that he needed to focus on racing, that F1 seat was almost in his grasp and that was all that mattered to him right now, but you knew there was something else going on. 

While Charles was having issues in the relationship department, you were actually flourishing. You had met your now boyfriend Lucas, when he was the new kid your eighth grade year. You thought he was cute from the moment he walked into your History class the first day back from winter break. And when the seat next to you was the only open desk you tried to hide your excitement as he sat down, but when he smiled at you first, it was hard to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks. He was the first to speak, asking if you had a pencil. But his accent made your ears perk up – he was Spanish. The big brown doe eyes and dark hair fit him, now that you realized he was Spanish. 

“Do all Spaniards come unprepared on their first day?” You teased as you handed him a pencil. It was his turn to be the one blushing as he stifled a smile. 

“No, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.” 

So he was a flirt – noted. 

The two of you became good friends rather quickly, but per your parents rules, you couldn’t date until you were fifteen. So, you played the long game and prayed that no one else peaked his interest. Luckily for you, he was so infatuated with you that he was willing to wait, and on your fifteenth birthday you went on your first date. He was nothing shy of a gentleman, even going as far as asking your parents permission to take you out, something your Dad was very fond of. And as your parents watched their little girl walk out the door hand in hand with a boy, they couldn’t help but feel a little sad. 

“Our little girl is growing up.” 

Your Mom wrapped a comforting arm around your Dad. “I know. I’m glad though, I figured she would waste her teenage years waiting on Charles.” 

A questioning look washed across your Dad’s face. “What?” 

“Oh honey. Don’t act like you’ve been blind these past ten years. They’ve always been drawn to each other, her more than him. She was absolutely heartbroken when he brought his first girlfriend to dinner that one time.” 

“Guess I do remember being less than thrilled at Charles getting her that ring for Christmas that one year.” Your Dad huffed. 

“Hmm,” she rests her head on his shoulder, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his abdomen as they still stand there, staring at the door. “You know Pascale has always said that Y/N would end up with Charles.” 

Your Dad scoffs at your Mom’s words. “And what do you think of that?” 

“I think only time will tell.” 

While your parents were discussing your love life back at home, you were having a grand time on your date. The pizza place Lucas had taken you to was cute, a fitting place for two fifteen year olds to be on a first date. Thankfully it wasn’t awkward or tense, and you had to thank the two of you for being friends for a year before your date for that. It was just like the two of you hanging out. 

On the walk back to your house your hands never separate, even when they start to become sweaty. And when he pulls you closer to him, so you're basically hugging his arm, you realize you could get used to this.The way his brown eyes look like pools of honey when the sun hits them just right as he looks down at you, the feeling of his thumb gently rubbing circles on your hand, and the way your name rolls of his tongue when he talks to you, especially with that accent of his. All of it has that all too familiar warm fuzzy feeling appearing in your stomach. 

When he stops in front of the ice cream shop near your house he doesn’t even have to ask you if you want any, you’re already dragging him towards the entrance. The little bell on the door rings as the two of you walk inside and the all too familiar sugary sweet smell hits your nostrils. 

“Ah! Chérie!” 

The owner Mr. Martin – a short older man, probably in his sixties, with what you would call haystacks for eyebrows was beaming at you from behind the counter. He had grown fond of you and the Leclerc boys over the years, claiming that he loved seeing the three of you grow up, as he never had any grandchildren of his own. Though, when his eyes shifted to the right and saw Lucas standing next to you his smile fell briefly, if you hadn’t been staring at him you wouldn’t have caught it. 

“Who is this handsome young man?” He asks as the two of you walk towards him.. 

You introduce Lucas to Mr. Martin and it’s at that moment that you realize that this is the first time you’ve brought him here. Something that didn’t seem possible to you because you were here so often that you had to have brought Lucas here at least once, but you can’t recall a time. 

Only when a vanilla cone is in front of your face are you brought out of your thoughts. Of course Mr. Martin didn’t need to ask you what you wanted, it’s been the same thing every time for the past ten years. Lucas had already sat down at one of the little tables, chocolate cone in hand, while he waited for you. 

“I was surprised to see you with a boy other than Charles.” Mr. Martin states as he wipes down the counter. “He must be special because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here with anyone other than your family or Charles.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Yes, this was your first time you had brought Lucas here, but you know you’ve brought other friends here. There was no way in your ten years here that you hadn’t, but once again your mind was drawing a blank. As you glance back over at Lucas a knot forms in your stomach, it suddenly feels wrong to have brought him here. Like in some way you were tainting this place with his presence. Ruining whatever special hold this place has on your relationship with your family– with Charles. 

You completely ignore Mr. Martin’s statements and just give him a smile and thanks before making up an excuse as to why Lucas and you need to leave. He doesn’t take much convincing when you claim to want to see the sunset. His hand is back in yours as you hear the bell ring once more as the two of you leave. And it’s like as soon as you guys are back on the sidewalk walking towards your house, the gut wrenching feeling is gone. The only evidence of it is left in the ice cream and by the time you’re standing on your front porch step it’s all gone. 

Lucas has a lopsided grin on his face, one you’ve grown to love, as the two of you stand facing each other. “You know we are missing the sunset you wanted to see.” His fingers lightly toy with yours, before finally intertwining them again.

“Mmh. It’s okay.” You were getting lost in those big brown eyes of his, the sunset the last thing on your mind. 

“I’d rather stare at you anyways, you’re much prettier.” 

His words make you practically putty in his hands and before you know it you’re having your first kiss. It’s sweet, metaphorically and literally, the taste of ice cream still on both of your lips. His hand cups your cheek and you have to wonder if he’s done this before. But when he pulls away he only has you craving more, so you lean up and steal on more from him. Giggles escaping past your lips as you see the light blush on his cheeks, you were sure yours were bright red. “Guess this is where I ask you to be my girlfriend huh? Not like I’ve been obsessed with you since my first day of school, been waiting all year or anything.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him with a smirk on your face. “Are you going to properly ask me?” 

By the end of the night when you’re laying in bed, you had officially gone on your first date, had your first kiss, and obtained a boyfriend all in a matter of hours that day. You were a giddy mess, excitement coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t help but repeatedly feel your lips, the feeling of Lucas’ still fresh in your mind the whole night. You couldn’t wait to feel them on yours again. And when he texts you that he wants to hang out tomorrow you think your heart just might leap out of your chest. 

Being with Lucas was like living on cloud nine, you truly couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. As the year progressed you really wondered how you had snagged someone like him– tall, dark, and handsome. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and he made you feel like it too, until he didn’t.

That’s the funny thing about first loves, you really think nothing could ever come between you, that it’s going to last forever. But the only thing that lasts forever is the damage they leave when they’re gone. 

You aren’t really sure what switched in Lucas, but after a year of being together he turned into someone who was never happy with what you did, always picking fights over stupid little things. And you know you should have left him already, but you love him, and you think you guys can make it work. You’re only sixteen and your Mom tells you relationships shouldn’t be like this at this age, shouldn’t be mentally draining, but unfortunately this one is. 

All your arguments as of lately had been about Charles. Lucas, though denying it every time you brought it up, had become jealous of him. You weren’t even sure where the jealousy had come from, you barely saw Charles like you used to. He was in F2 on the cusp of getting that F1 seat and you were busy with school and spending time with Lucas. You had even gone as far as rejecting invites to hang out with your other friends to spend time with Lucas, something now you regret very deeply. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It’s a chilly Friday night in February when everything comes crashing down. The argument started over Charles texting you asking if you wanted to hang out. You were already with Lucas, but you hadn’t seen Charles in a couple weeks and you knew once the season started seeing him would be even more scarce. So, you make the big mistake of asking Lucas if he wanted to hang out with Charles. 

“Why would I want to hang out with him?” His back was turned to you, but you already knew from his tone that this was going to turn into an argument. 

“Well I haven’t seen him in awhile and he texted me asking to hang out, I thought we all could hang out.” You thought maybe by including Lucas in the plans that it would make the situation better. Wrong. 

He turns to face you, walking towards your bed where you’re currently sat. “Did he mention me in the text?” 

“Well no but-” 

“Exactly,” Lucas scoffs at you, his expression sour as he looms over you. “He doesn’t want me to come. I would get in his way.” 

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, Charles was not the guy Lucas made him out to be. “Don’t know what you mean by you getting in his way.” 

“Oh don’t act cute about it Y/N.” Hearing your name roll off his tongue no longer sounded like music to your ears, it now more resembled nails on a chalkboard, like each time he spoke your name it was venom coming out his mouth. “Bet if I gave him the chance he’d try to get in your pants at the first opportunity.” 

Your eyes widened, cheeks getting hot at his accusations. “What kind of girl do you think I am Lucas?” 

“All I’m saying is your friendship with him isn’t normal, and it makes a guy wonder.” 

You were up off of your bed now, the two of you standing in the middle of your room. “This is getting old. I’ve told you, you have nothing to be jealous of.” You had started to twist the ring on your pinky finger, a nervous habit you had developed over the past couple years. 

“That is why your friendship isn’t normal.” Lucas grabs your hand, his fingers twisting at the ring trying to pull it off your finger. “What kind of girl wears a ring another guy got her while in a relationship? Huh? Even worse that you’ve got matching ones.”

Yanking your hand free from his grasp you can feel your blood starting to boil, and you’re thankful your parents aren’t home tonight because you can tell this is going to get ugly. “We fucking grew up together! He’s like a brother Lucas!” You were the first one to yell and you had unfortunately opened the floodgates because now Lucas is yelling.

“Who hasn’t heard that before?! He’s like a brother. Give me a fucking break. You’re telling me you’ve never had feelings for him? Not once in your life?”  

The accusations and ideas he was throwing around tonight were beyond ridiculous. 

“I’m not thirteen anymore Lucas. You know I only love you.” And you don’t realize what you’ve basically admitted until it leaves your mouth and you hear Lucas let out a dry laugh. 

“Ah. There it is. I think that last part may have been a lie, because you still wouldn’t be wearing that ring if you didn’t still feel something for him.” 

You shake your head at him, why couldn’t he get what you were saying though his thick skull. “I only have platonic love for Charles. It’s nothing like what you and I have.” 

He clicks his tongue, and you can hear the gears turning in his head. “Prove it.” You furrow your eyebrows at him, confused as to how you are supposed to prove that you love only him. “Take the ring off and give it back to Charles.” 

You tuck your hands behind your back, afraid he’ll try and rip it off your finger again. “No. It’s just a ring Lucas. You’re giving it more power than it has.” 

“If it’s just a ring then take it off.” You shake your head no at him. “Take it off Y/N.” You shake your head no again and he stalks towards you, causing you to back up until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Take off the fucking ring!” He’s yelling and you can feel the tears starting to pool in your eyes. He’s never gotten this crazy before and you can tell that this is the end of the two of you. 

“Lucas just go.” You're trying to hold back your tears, but when he tries to reach around to grab your hand you let out a sob. “Lucas, leave! Now!” 

He backs up, and for the first time that night you get a good look at his eyes. They are no longer the pools of honey you once found yourself getting lost in, their dark, like a black void, and he almost looks unrecognizable as he stands there. “You never truly loved me did you?.” 

His words cut through you, because you really did love him, and you thought he loved you. But someone who loves you would never treat you like he has you. “I loved you more than you’ll ever know, but clearly you’ve got some shit mixed up in your head to think that I didn’t.” 

“But you are always going to love Charles more Y/N. You can tell yourself it’s only platonic love, but we both know it’s not.” 

You wipe away your tears as you sit back down on the side of your bed, this was getting old. “I can’t do this anymore. Truly. I’ve tried to tell you how much you mean to me, but Charles is a part of my life and if you can’t deal with that,” You take a deep breath, scared for what's about to come out of your mouth. “Then maybe we should break up.” 

And for the first time that night Lucas doesn’t respond and you’re actually surprised that he doesn’t put up a fight. “Alright then I guess we are done.” When he doesn’t immediately leave and decides to squat down in front of you, you're confused. Especially when he wipes away your tears as his hand cups your cheek. “I never wanted us to end up like this, but I can’t share your heart with someone else.” 

He should be screaming and instigating more arguing, not being gentle and loving. More tears fall down your cheeks as he presses a final kiss on your forehead before walking out your bedroom door. You can hear your parents greet him downstairs, what great timing for them to arrive home, and when the front door slams you’re surprised your Dad isn’t going after him. 

You’re immediately calling Charles and you don’t even have to speak, your sniffles and ragged breathing lets him know that you need him. As you hang up the phone you hear a gentle knock on your door and you see your Mom peek her head in, her heart breaking when she sees the state you’re in. “Oh my sweet girl.” 

“It’s over Mom.” You choke out between sobs. 

She does the only thing that she knows you need right now and just holds you, lets you get it all out as she runs her fingers through your hair. 

But seconds later you’re both greeted with an out of breath Charles standing in the middle of your room. Your tears subside for a moment, as you see him doubled over trying to catch his breath.

“Alright, I’m gonna leave you two be.” Your Mom gives you a reassuring kiss on the head before exiting your bedroom. 

Charles takes her spot next to you on your bed, his arm immediately pulling you into him. “Did you run here?” You ask as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Did you expect anything less when you called me crying?” He’s deadly serious when he says it, and you don’t know it, but he’d drop everything to come to your aid, no matter if you asked or not. You don’t answer him, but when you wrap your arms around his waist and basically tuck yourself into his side, he knows you appreciate him being here. “Am I wrong for thinking this has something to do with Lucas?” 

The tears start to fall again as the fight replays in your head. “We broke up.” Your words barely above a whisper, but Charles has no trouble hearing them, even over your sniffles. 

“Never liked that asshole anyways.” 

You rolled your eyes at Charles' statement, lightly laughing because he was totally lying. “Don’t lie, you liked him, hell everyone liked him.” 

“Ever thought I am just a very good actor? He made you happy, so I just pretended to like him, for your sake.” 

“Wish you would have made your dislike of him known, maybe I wouldn’t be a hot mess on a Friday night right now.” A sigh escapes past your lips, the feeling of Charles gently rubbing circles on your side had started to soothe you. And you wished you could stay like this forever, wrapped up in his embrace. 

Charles doesn’t mean to pry, he knows you’ll tell him when you're ready, but he’s curious as to why the two of you had broken up, as far as he was concerned the two of you seemed happier than ever. But he wasn’t going to lie and say he wasn’t happy about the two of you breaking up, for reasons unknown to him yet. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” 

Your grip on him tightens and he thinks if he let you, you’d be under his skin if it was possible. “He was jealous of you.” 

Charles feels his heartbeat quicken and he’s not sure why, but he does know he wants to hear the whole story. “And?” 

You know you’re going to start crying again, but it's Charles, you can tell him anything. So you take a deep breath and spill the beans. “It started a couple months ago. He’d pick fights over stupid stuff at first and then it turned into stuff concerning you. I tried to just let it go and make sure he knew he was my number one priority. But tonight’s fight was the worst one yet and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. He was basically insulating that I loved you more than him and I tried to tell him it was only platonic love that I had for you, but he wasn’t convinced.” 

There’s a strange feeling that blooms in Charles' chest as your words hit his ears and it clouds his mind because he’s never had a feeling like this when he’s been around you. It’s foreign and it scares the shit out of him.

You hold back some information from Charles, mainly because you were still processing how you really feel about him. Trying to sort through what Lucas had planted into your brain and what might have already been there, left over from thirteen year old you. But your ring clad finger searches for his and when you feel the cool contrast of his ring, you wrap your pinky fingers together. “Do you think our friendship is normal Charlie?” 

He cocks an eyebrow at you, confused as to what you meant. “Where’s this coming from?” 

Your eyes never break away from your intertwined fingers, matching rings staring back at you. “Lucas said our friendship isn’t normal and basically the fact that we have matching rings isn’t normal either.” 

Now Charles' gaze is also on your rings and for a moment he thinks maybe it isn’t normal, but then he realizes this is your guys normal. So fuck what anyone else or Lucas thought about his friendship with you. “Think he might have been just pulling shit out of his ass at that point. Jealous that he doesn’t have anyone in his life like we do each other.” 

Charles' words do make you feel a little better, because you know no matter what you’ll always have each other and tonight is proof of that, but that doesn’t stop your still broken heart from showing.

“Still kind of made me feel like shit though, like he made it seem like I didn’t love him at all, when I clearly did. I mean god Charles he was my first date, first kiss, first everything. Even with how badly he had treated me these last couple months, we’re always gonna have that connection. How am I supposed to find someone like that again? Fuck. I mean he literally has a part of me that I’ll never get back.” 

And Charles can feel his heart tightening at your words, because you’re truly the most amazing girl he knows, and to know that Lucas treated you badly when all you deserve is the best awakens something in him. 

“I wish you could see how you look to me, how amazing you are. Yes, you have those connections with Lucas, but believe me when I say you aren’t going to have a problem finding someone else.” 

A small smile finds its way onto your face as you hear Charles speak. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“I wouldn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You’re funny, kind, the best listener, and you’re so beautiful. Truly Y/N, anyone would be lucky to have you. And Lucas is clearly stupid for letting you go.” 

The blush on your cheeks probably looked like a bad sunburn with how much you were blushing and as you made eye contact with Charles you suddenly felt like that thirteen year old girl again. His blue eyes burning into yours and when he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach. And for a brief moment Charles had pushed your thoughts about Lucas to the back of your mind. 

He pulls you into a hug and if there is one place you feel the safest in the world, it’s in Charles arms. And when he whispers into your ear that everything is gonna be fine, you know it’s going to be, as long as you’ve got Charles in your life. 

seventeen and twenty 

He had done it. 

Charles had finally gotten into Formula 1. The thing he had only dreamt of since childhood had finally come true. The long weekends away from home, the training, the tiredness, the stress, it was all worth it in the end. That seat was finally his and you couldn’t have been more proud. He had been in talks with a couple of the teams for a while and he always kept you updated on the possibilities, some weeks it sounded like he would sign with one team, and then the next another. The whole situation was beyond stressful to you, so you could only imagine how Charles felt about it all. 

The day you found out that he signed with Suaber was one you’ll never forget.

Charles had tried to plan some elaborate thing to announce the big news to you, but that meant he would have to keep it a secret from you for at least a day or two. Something he found to be rather difficult once he got home, because the only thing he wanted to do was tell you. 

It didn’t matter to him that it was almost midnight by the time he had gotten home from the airport, he was going to tell you tonight no matter what. He pulled his phone out of his pocket– thumbs moving rapidly as he texted you. 

After dozing off multiple times in the last half hour you had decided to call it quits on your binge session of The Office for the night. You had switched the TV to something random to actually fall asleep to and it didn’t take long for you to be on the cusp of actual sleep until– 

DING

A groan escaped past your lips and you contemplated ignoring it, but when the second alert went off you snatched your phone off the nightstand. It felt like you were staring directly into the sun as your eyes struggled to read the text notification. 

Charlie: come out back 

Your eyes glanced at the time – 12:15. What the hell could he possibly want this late? But you begrudgingly got out of bed, slipping on some shoes and a sweatshirt before quietly going downstairs. 

The light on the back patio illuminated the backyard just enough for you to see Charles sitting on the swings waiting for you. And If you were even thinking about sneaking up on Charles that would have been impossible with the sliding door to the backyard. The thing screeched like nails on a chalkboard even with you opening it just enough to slide through it. His gaze now locked onto you as you scurried off the porch and towards the swings. 

The smile that he greeted you with was one beyond measure. He was clearly happy about something and you could tell just by the crinkles around his eyes and those dimples that right now looked to be deeper than canyons. 

“What’s got you so happy, Leclerc?” 

Your eyes focused on Charles' frame as he swayed back and forth slowly on the swing. He was clearly too big for it – his legs were bent awkwardly and his swing creaked everytime he moved. You could feel the sides of the swing digging into your hips and you realized you probably looked as ridiculous as him. 

“Just happy to see you. Missed you.” His smile still ever prominent. 

You scoffed at his words, he had just seen you a couple days ago. “Yeah right. You wouldn’t have texted me at midnight if there wasn’t something going on. In fact, how did you know I was up or even home? It’s a Friday night you know.” 

“Because I know you Y/N. Your Friday nights are usually spent at home watching some show until you can’t stay up any longer.” 

A grimace finds its way onto your face, what an amazing life you live. “Okay when you say it outloud it makes me sound like a loser.” 

His eyes had softened as the two of you made eye contact. “Nothing wrong with how you spend your Friday nights.” 

You wanted to get off the topic of your nonexistent social life and onto the pressing matter at hand tonight – what had Charles so giddy? “So are you gonna tell me what is actually going on or what?” 

He took a deep breath, he couldn’t believe he was finally getting to say these words out loud. “I’ve got a Formula 1 seat next year.” 

A blank expression is all that is staring back at Charles and he’s worried that you’re somehow mad or upset, but that’s far from the truth. You aren’t sure if you’ve heard him right, because you think you heard him say he’s going to be racing in Formula 1 next year, but your brain has seemed to have short circuited– your heart beating a mile a minute. 

You’re able to get out, “Sorry – what?!” and when you hear those words come from him once again you’re practically leaping out of the swing and into his arms. The fact that it’s nighttime and people are sleeping is the last thing on your mind as you're shouting excited nonsense at him. 

His laughter filled your ears as he stood up from the swing with you still wrapped up in his arms. You just couldn’t believe it, something he had worked so hard for, dreamt about since childhood, had finally come true. If anyone was deserving of it – it was him. 

“Putain de merde Charles! When did you sign and with who?” You asked once you had finally peeled yourself away from him and were able to form a coherent sentence. 

“Sauber – I just signed yesterday. I know it’s not Ferrari like we had hoped-” 

Your jaw dropped and you lightly smacked his arm. “Ferrari will always be there, I promise. And maybe after they see how good you do this upcoming season they’ll regret not signing you. But what I’m really wondering is why you told me you were going to do testing for one of the teams instead of telling me you were going to sign with them!” 

He put his hands up in defense, but the cheesy grin on his face still remained. “I wanted to surprise you! But then as soon as I signed that contract all I wanted to do was tell you. I literally just got home from the airport when I texted you!” 

The fact that Charles wanted you to be the first person he told had you melting and the butterflies in your stomach had you thinking about those unresolved feelings you had towards him. But you pushed it aside because tonight was not the night for that to be lingering in your mind. 

You reached down to his hand and linked your pinky fingers together. The gesture no longer just meant for a promise, but also one of comfort and reassurance. “I do hope you know though how immensely proud I am of you. How proud your Papa would be of you. I knew from that first time you ever mentioned something about becoming a F1 driver when we were kids that you would accomplish it and now look at you.” 

Charles' eyes soften at your words and when he looks into your eyes he feels that funny foreign feeling. The one that blooms in his chest and travels down to his stomach, the same feeling from last year when he held you after Lucas broke your heart. The feeling he chooses to ignore as he pulls you back into his arms, hugging you tightly, like someone might take you from him. He knows his life wouldn’t be the same without you and that he owes some of this success to you– for constantly believing in him even when he didn’t, for dreaming with him, and for being the light on even his darkest days. 

“And I hope you know that I wouldn’t have made it without you. You’ve been my biggest supporter since we were kids, always believing in me, pushing me, coming to support me when you could, and I can’t imagine you not being at my first race.” 

“Oh do you not remember what I said when we were younger? Think I said I’d have a permanent paddock pass, so you bet your ass I’m gonna be there.” 

A small laugh escapes past his lips and his dimples are back out in full force for what seems like the millionth time tonight. “Truly Y/N. Merci, I couldn’t have done it without you. Je t'aime.” 

“Je t'aime aussi Charlie.” 

His pinky finger finds yours once again and when he curls his finger around yours a wave of deja vu washes over you. And that’s when you remembered the last time the two were out here together. You were still kids, but you had made him promise not to forget you once he got into Formula 1. 

Now here the two of you stood, high on the exciting news of him achieving that goal. You can’t help that pit that starts to form in your stomach as you think of what you feared at age ten coming true. You try to hide it, not wanting to dampen the mood, and you know all you can do is pray that he keeps his promise. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

That following March you make the trip to Australia with the Leclerc’s and your family and it’s everything you could have ever dreamed of. Sure you had attended the Monaco Grand Prix every year, and some of Charles F2 races, but you had never been really in the thick of it like this. Maybe it was because it was Charles' first ever F1 race, but the feeling in the air was indescribable. The roar of the engines, the cheers from the crowd, it was something you could get used to experiencing. 

It’s surreal to see him in the car, see him flying around the circuit like it’s nothing, because all you can imagine is eight year old Charles saying he wants to be an F1 driver when he grows up in that car. He ends up placing P13 and for his first ever F1 race you couldn't have been more proud. And you aren’t afraid to admit that you shed a few tears, honestly you think everyone shed a few tears seeing him finally accomplish that lifetime dream of his. 

When you see him after the race he’s beaming like he’d won the thing and you could only imagine what he will be like when he actually wins his first race. You can practically feel the adrenaline radiating off of him when he wraps you up in his embrace. 

“You did so good Charles. You did it, you made it.” Your words slightly mumbled against his shoulder, but he hears you just fine. 

“I’m glad you were able to come. Wouldn’t have been as special if you didn’t.” You don’t think he’s wiped that smile off his face ever since he got out of the car and it only intensified as he spoke to you. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” And it’s true because there’s no other place you’d want to be right now. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The next time you see him is for the Monaco Grand Prix and he’s nearly shitting himself the whole week before. You would have thought this was his first ever time in a F1 car with how nervous he was. He knows these streets like the back of his hand, knows this circuit like the back of his hand, but he still spends an unnecessary amount of time on the sim, trying to perfect every little thing. 

With what little amount of time you see him between practice sessions and qualifying before the actual race you try and reassure him, let him know that he’s still an amazing person and driver no matter the outcome on Sunday. And it seems to have worked because by Sunday his spirits seem to be much higher and he’s got a good feeling about the race, hoping to score some points, and maybe win his home race. 

But when his brakes fail and he ends up crashing into the back of another car resulting in a DNF you’re heartbroken, but you know he’s even more upset. You know he’s going to be so hard on himself and overanalyze the whole situation, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to try and make things a little better. 

When you find him he’s pacing back and forth in what little space he has in his drivers room. Helmet still strapped onto his head and his race suit still done up. You spot one of his gloves on the physio table and the other on the ground — evidence that he had thrown them. He’s so in his head that he doesn’t even see you standing in the doorway as he paces. 

“Charlie.” Your voice is soft and you hope by using his nickname that it may calm him a little. 

His movements stop when he hears your voice and when he finally sees you standing there in the doorway all he wants to do is crawl into a hole and die. What an embarrassment to have his first DNF at his first home race. It’s like the gods wanted to punish him for reasons unbestowed to him. 

Your reflection stares back at you through his visor as you approach him, his shoulders relaxing slightly as your hands find their home on them. You finally work up the courage to flip up his visor so you can actually look at him and when you see red puffy eyes staring back at you your heart breaks a little more. 

“Let’s get this helmet off, yeah?” 

With a small nod given from him as permission you reach your hands up to undo the strap. You’re trying to be delicate with your actions, but when it comes to taking off his helmet there really isn’t a way to be nice about it. And Charles knows because he’s got his hands over yours, aiding you in taking it off. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him as he practically tore off his balaclava and threw it haphazardly somewhere in the room. As silly as it seemed, the indentions that it left behind on his face somehow made him more attractive. Combine that with his hair being a tousled mess and his skin glistening from the sweat (and tears) and post race Charles may be your favorite Charles. You watched even more intently as he unzipped his race suit, letting the upper half fall at his hips, exposing the tight fireproofs that you loved more than you should. 

Those unresolved feelings that you’ve tried to shove deep down for years had seemed to be crawling their way back up recently. But for today you pushed them back down because you were here to comfort Charles, not ogle at him, no matter how good he looked at the moment. 

He sat down on his physio table with a defeated sigh, hand running through his already messy hair. “I’ve let everyone down – the team, my family, myself, you. Maybe if I wouldn’t have braked too hard at turn seven or didn’t push as hard in the tunnel-” 

You moved to stand in between his legs, your hands resting on his shoulders. He was on the edge of spiraling and you knew if you didn’t take him back from that ledge he’d be in his head about it for weeks. 

“Charles. There was nothing that you could have done differently, it was an issue with the car. Which means it had nothing to do with you as a person, as a driver, or your talent.” Your hand subconsciously searches for his, and like it’s muscle memory your pinkies link seconds later. “I promise.” 

“A ‘once in a generation driver’ would have avoided crashing.” 

Ugh. The phrases that the media used to describe Charles were – yes very flattering, but they came at a price. He took them personally and the idea of being anything less than what they claimed him to be took a serious mental toll on him. 

“You had no brakes Charles. What were you supposed to do? Bust your feet through the floor and Fred Flintstone it?” You could see the corners of his mouth turn up slightly at your comment and you knew he was backing away from the edge. His hands find their way around your waist and he’s pulling you into him, your head finding a home on his shoulder. 

“I’m still immensely proud of you. Hell, you could finish dead last in every race and I’d still be your number one fan.” This time there is an actual smile that washes across Charles face, but you don’t get to see it, your head is still resting on his shoulder. “ And I know it’s easier said than done, but please try not to be so hard on yourself, especially when it comes to things out of your control.” 

“What would I do without you?” It’s a serious question that Charles asks himself often. You’ve been each other's rocks for twelve years now. Through the amazing times and the horrible times. No one knows either of you like you do each other. 

You’ve pulled away from his embrace now, your eyes staring back at his. “Hmmm. I don’t know. You’d probably be absolutely miserable without me.” 

And when you finally see that pretty smile of his, dimples and all, you know you’ve accomplished your mission. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Although after Monaco– things changed. 

The first thing and probably the most inevitable was Charles moving out. Honestly, you were surprised he hadn’t done it sooner, but in between the Monaco GP and Canadian GP he moved into his own place. Which in theory wasn’t a big deal, but that meant he wasn’t just right down the street from you anymore. He had gotten an apartment further into the city, which in Monaco that’s not that far, but you knew it would make a difference. 

The days of popping into his house and expecting him to be there were long gone. The whole thing really shouldn’t have been such a big deal to you, but you couldn’t help but think that him moving out was only going to aid in your worries of him forgetting about you to come true. 

After Monaco your communication with Charles started to slowly lessen.Texts that once were answered in minutes now went hours without an answer or sometimes no response at all. You blamed it on his busy schedule, trying not to think too much about it. But much to your dismay, your worries do come true. 

It’s inevitable to you that you are drifting apart when you realize it’s been three months since you’ve seen him, almost a month since you’ve talked to him. And when you see him make it official with some girl you hadn’t even heard mention of after the British GP you feel like it’s just another nail in the coffin. 

You don’t even make the effort to reach out anymore, in fact you make sure not to after seeing that he��s got a new girlfriend. You’d just be wasting your time and energy. And it may seem like you're giving up on keeping Charles in your life, but really what else could you do? It truly hurts like hell to see the person you care about the most not seem to care about you, but you can’t force someone to talk to you or see you. 

He’s living his dream, traveling the world, partying, surrounded by stunning women. You’re still in school, still only seventeen, and not sure what you want your life to look like. It was inevitable really, for the two of you to drift apart, but that little part of you that ten year old you still holds on to, hopes that Charles remembers that promise he made and eventually comes to his senses. Because you know and you know he knows that you two are always going to have that special bond, the ring on your finger a constant reminder of it. And you wonder if he still wears his, but you don’t hold on to much hope that he does. 

Even though Charles and you aren’t exactly the closest at the moment you do want to try and attend another race before you start your final year of school and are forced to give that all of your attention. So when Arthur texts you asking if you want to go to Monza with Pascale and him you don’t pass up the opportunity.

Arthur filled you in on stuff regarding Charles during the flight, not that you asked, but he knew the two of you hadn’t really been talking. And you don’t mean to ask about his girlfriend, but you do, and you can see Arthur tip-toeing around his words. “She’s… nice. I’ve only met her once so I really couldn’t tell you much. You haven’t met her yet though, right?” 

You shook your head at him. “I haven’t even seen Charles since the home race. So no, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her.” 

“Merde. I didn’t think it had been that long.” 

What Arthur doesn’t tell you is that Charles doesn’t know their Mom and him are coming, not to mention you. You only figure it out when Arthur says something about making sure Charles doesn’t know to the Sauber team member who gives him three VIP passes. Arthur claims you guys are here to surprise Charles, give him a little pick me up after his last two races were DNF’s. 

The idea of seeing Charles again after so long already had your stomach in knots, but now knowing he doesn’t even know you’re coming makes it even worse. You were under the impression that he knew you were tagging along with Arthur. And everyone knows Charles is horrible at hiding his emotions, what if he sees you and can’t hide the fact that he doesn’t want you here? A million possibilities ran through your brain as Arthur dragged you towards the Sauber garage, while Pascale went to hospitality. 

Qualifying had just started and you were thankful for the extra time to mentally prepare yourself to see Charles again. With the way you were acting you would have thought you hadn’t seen him in years, but truthfully these three months had felt like years. 

The roar of engines were slightly muffled as you put on a headset, eyes focused on the monitor in front of you. Even with your nerves through the roof, it felt good to be back at a race. The atmosphere was intoxicating, you loved the hustle and bustle of it all, the adrenaline you got from just being here was crazy. 

You were so engrossed in watching Charles that you didn’t even notice someone come up behind Arthur and you until you felt him tap your shoulder. When you turn around the person standing there is the last person you expected to be seeing.  

Leah— Charles' girlfriend.  

Her lips are moving, but you aren’t hearing a word, and that’s when you realize you’ve still got your headset on. You quickly pull them down around your neck just in time to hear her say. “You must be Y/N?” You're shocked she knows who you are and from the look on your face she knows exactly what you’re thinking. “Charles has mentioned you before. It’s nice to finally meet you!” 

It’s sad to say that you had a hard time believing that Charles talked about you to her, but you put on a fake smile and accepted her invitation for a hug. “It’s nice to meet you too!” While Arthur and her spoke you tried to get a good read on her, but it was hard to tell if she was naturally this friendly or if it was all just an act. 

Time slipped away as the three of you chatted and you hadn’t realized Q1 was over and that Charles hadn’t made it into Q2 until you saw Leah’s eyes widened at something behind you. That something turned out to be someone and that someone turned out to be Charles. Leah’s practically hanging off of him while she’s trying to take a million photos and videos. And that’s when you know why Arthur tiptoed around his words about her earlier. Yes she was ‘nice’, but she was clearly using Charles for her own benefit. 

Charles on the other hand was oblivious to Leah shoving her phone in his face. His vision had zeroed in on you from the moment he entered the garage, even with your back turned to him he could spot you in a crowd of hundreds. When you finally turned around he felt like his feet had been cemented to the ground. His body felt hot, like a fever was running through his veins, and it wasn’t from being in the car moments ago. 

Arthur wasn’t supposed to be here and you weren’t either– especially talking to his girlfriend. It throws him for a loop and he can’t seem to get his brain and mouth to work together to even greet you, so he stands there while Leah makes sure everyone knows she’s dating a Formula 1 driver. 

The tight lipped smile you throw his direction doesn’t help how he’s feeling. You should be beaming at him, in his personal space (preferably in his arms), laughing at something dumb he said, anything other than how you were right now. And he knows it's no fault but his own, but it still hurts to see you stand there and act like you don’t like him, like you haven’t known each other for twelve years.

Charles could blame his absence in your life on his career, but that wasn’t the whole truth. 

He had seen your texts and truthfully sometimes he was so busy that he would forget to text you back. But those times when he could give you his full attention over text or the occasional facetime were times he never took for granted. He loved hearing your laughter, seeing your smile, or even just having you send him a text about your day. But with those things he loved so dearly came that funny feeling in his chest. 

The same feeling that he first felt last year when Lucas broke up with you, the night he told you he made it into F1, at his home race, and sprinkled in occasionally at other times. He had realized what it was not too long after the Monaco GP and at first he denied it, he thought there was no way it was possible. But then when that feeling would happen just from getting a text from you he knew he was fucked. He wasn’t even going to say the word out loud, not even think it, afraid of what might come if he even allowed the universe the satisfaction of him accepting what he was feeling. You were supposed to be his best friend and not someone he had feelings for. 

So what did he do to combat this insane revelation he had found out about himself? 

Distance himself. 

If he wasn’t in contact with you or seeing you, then surely this silly little thing, that he once again would not acknowledge by its government name, would go away. Plus his ever so busy career was the perfect excuse for him to use in case his Mother or you questioned him. 

And at first it wasn’t hard at all, he had gradually weaned himself off from facetiming you and then texting. And it wasn’t that bad because he had racing and training and media duties and parties– all the stuff that his life involved now to distract him. But then your texts became less and less and then on one off week he realized just how badly he missed having your stupid contact photo pop up on his phone and how he may have fucked everything up. 

But then he met Leah through another driver’s girlfriend and he had her to distract him even more. He knew what kind of person she was from the get go, but he was basically using her too, so if she wanted to make her whole instagram about him then so be it as long as his brain was free of that thing that must not be named about you. And Leah worked for awhile, she was relatively nice and it helped that she was pretty, but she wasn’t you. 

There was no real connection between them and sometimes Charles would rather watch paint dry than have a conversation with her. And most of the time he just let her sit there and talk while he scrolled on his phone, trying not to act like his heart didn’t skip a beat when a post of yours would pop up on Instagram. 

He wanted to contact you so badly, but what was he supposed to say? Hey, I've been so busy that I haven't even picked up my phone to text you hi. 

He knew he had caused some damage to your relationship when his Mom asked why he wasn’t coming home to see you anymore and that you weren’t yourself. He feels like shit about it, the idea of him making you upset is practically nightmare fuel for Charles and he doesn’t know why he thought distancing himself would make things better, they had just made things worse. Made him miss you even more without even realizing it. 

Clearly Charles had never heard the saying distance makes the heart grow fonder because if he had then maybe he wouldn’t have been stood there like a fool in the Sauber garage right now. Heart racing faster than the car he just got out of at the sight of you standing here in front of him for the first time in three months. 

What the hell was happening to him? What was this sudden effect you had on him? Had it always been there and he hadn’t realized it until now? He couldn’t think straight – it was clearly not a good idea to have tried to ignore these realizations (feelings) he had about you. A bad idea to not see you for months because now that you are here everything is rushing back up to the surface 10x worse than before. 

“Long time no see stranger.” Your voice brings him back to reality, but your closer proximity has him searching for an out. His head glancing in every direction for someone– his race engineer, one of the mechanics, Leah, anybody to distract him from you. 

When his search comes up short he resorts to making his stomach hurt even more by talking to you. 

“Yeah. How have you been?” God. Did he not even know how to talk to you anymore? Small talk with someone you know better than yourself had to be a torture method used by government agencies. 

“I’ve been good.” Lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “I see you’ve been living it up since I saw you last.” 

You were expecting a little awkwardness between the two of you, but the way Charles was acting was insane, it was like it was your first time meeting or something. He couldn’t maintain eye contact to save his life and honestly looked like he’d rather be someplace else at the moment. Your fear of him not wanting you here was clearly not a silly worry, it was reality. 

“Um yeah. Always busy doing something recently.” 

You’ve been fidgeting with the ring on your pinky finger the whole time and your movements catch Charles' gaze. His eyes immediately locking in on the silver ring still shining on your finger. He’s surprised after the way he’s treated you these past couple months that you still have it on, but yet here you stood in front of him with it on, a sign to Charles that he did not deserve you one bit. 

When he sees you realize that he’s staring at your ring and then sees your eyes shift to his naked finger his heart rate quickens once again. His stomach feels like it's about ready to drop out of his ass at the sight of hurt on your face that’s then quickly replaced by a blank stare. He can’t get his words out fast enough, he’s chewing on his words, mouth drier than the Sahara desert. 

“I-um-It’s in my-” 

“It’s fine Charles, really. We’re not little kids anymore. I shouldn’t be holding on to silly childhood promises.” It wasn’t fine, it was far from fine. You’re blinking back tears, your words referencing everything but the ring. But it’s a combination of everything that’s got you upset. The two of you drifting apart, the broken childhood promises, wanting to hate him right now but still being so proud to see him out there doing what he loves, and that damn ring. 

You felt stupid for still having it on, for thinking that he would still have his on. You needed to start being more realistic, but you were still only seventeen. An age that held so much fun and whimsy, you should be out having fun with your friends, not getting upset over a guy who clearly didn’t feel the same about you. The two of you were always going to be at two different times in your lives, it was never going to work out, but fuck there is always going to be apart of you that still holds onto him. He’s got his fingers dug so deep into you that you think you'll be old and gray and still wonder what could have been. 

Each word you spoke felt like a stab to Charles' heart. He wanted to tell you that he still wears his ring. That it’s sitting on its designated spot in his driver's room. But once again he can’t get his words out fast enough, his brain still hung up on your words for some reason. He’s hoping you would realize that the reason he doesn’t have it on was because he had just been in qualifying, but when he sees you slide your ring off and toss it in your bag those stabs to the heart intensify. He feels like he’s losing everything right in front of him, but he can’t seem to get his mind and body to work together to stop it. 

He feels an arm wrap around his and he knows it's Leah. Where was she moments ago when he was looking for an out? Maybe this situation could have been avoided and Charles wouldn’t feel like he had just lost the one person in his life who truly cared about him. 

“Good luck tomorrow Charles.” 

You don’t feel like sticking around any longer, especially if you have to look at Charles and Leah. You let Arthur know you're gonna go find Pascale, but you don’t leave without taking one last glance at Charles. 

It’s a long evening with Arthur’s prying questions about what's going on between his brother and you. All you can do is shrug your shoulders because really you don’t actually know what happened yourself, you assumed you drifted apart, but was there something else that happened that you didn’t know about? 

The next day you decide to watch the race from Sauber’s hospitality with Pascale, hoping to get away from Arthur’s never ending questions and Leah’s presence in general. Pascale luckily hadn’t pressed you on the Charles matter, but she’s practically your second Mother and she knows too that there’s something going on between Charles and you, she’s known from the beginning.

Charles ended up placing eleventh, which is miles better than his last two races, which were DNFs. Though you don’t even bother to go to the garage with Pascale, opting to stay in hospitality until it’s time to leave. It may have been petty of you, but you really weren’t in the mood to see Charles again and from his behavior yesterday he clearly doesn’t care that you're not there. 

But that was far from the truth. In fact Charles was praying that you would show up in the garage this morning, but when Arthur shows up solo he can’t hide the frown that forms on his face. The praying then moves onto seeing you post race, but that is quickly diminished when his Mother shows up without you in tow either. 

Your words from yesterday hung heavy in Charles' mind all last night. I shouldn’t be holding onto silly childhood promises bothered him more than it should have. And he wracked his brain trying to figure out what you could have been referencing. It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that he remembered a certain promise that the two of you made at ten and thirteen. Sleep was the last thing on his mind as he laid there wide awake staring at the ceiling recalling the memory in his mind.

He was such a fucking asshole. He’d done the one thing you promised him not to do. Granted he never really forgot about you, you were still clearly on his mind these past three months, but to you it really did seem like he had forgotten about you. Like he had gone off and became this famous race car driver that couldn’t be bothered to text his childhood best friend.

God he had fucked up, like truly fucked up, and all he wanted to do was explain himself (without revealing you know what), apologize, and try and get back to the way things used to be. That though, was proving to be easier said than done when you wouldn’t even come around. And by the time he’s done with his post race duties you’re back at the hotel ready to head back home. Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chance to redeem himself and you're left wondering why you even agreed to come in the first place. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A week later you're at home sitting on your bed, face shoved into a math textbook trying to figure out some formula when your phone rings. Charles' contact photo pops up on your phone and you contemplate not answering it. You haven’t had any contact with him since Monza so you wonder why he’s decided to call you of all things on a random Monday. But against your better judgment you press answer and put it on speaker before tossing it back down on your bed. 

“Bonjour?” 

There’s muffled sounds in the background, but Charles hasn’t spoken a word, and you wonder if he accidentally butt dialed you. 

“Y/N.” His voice finally echos through the speaker and you hate the way your heart flutters at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue. 

Charles had been working himself up to call you for hours, his finger hovering over your contact too many times to count. He thinks he may have blacked out a little when he finally pressed his thumb down on the screen and then heard your sweet voice, hence his delayed response. Today was his last chance to tell you the big news he'd hoped to tell you last week in Monza, but that clearly didn’t work out. 

The big news in question? Him finally signing with Ferrari. 

The team that he had dreamt of driving for once he got into F1 had finally given him a chance. It was not only his dream, but his Father’s dream for Charles too. Many weekends with his Father spent at race tracks had all led up to him getting that initial seat this year and then finally getting that Ferrari seat for next year, he only wished his Father could be here to witness it. Charles couldn’t have been more happy to finally accomplish that dream not only for himself, but also his Father. 

The other person who knew about how badly he wanted to be sporting that Ferrari red and supported him in finally reaching that goal was you. And to Charles it didn’t matter if you guys perhaps weren’t exactly on the best of terms right now, he wanted you to be the first person he told, just like last year when he got into F1. He sure as hell didn’t want you to find out from the press release, so here he was telling you over the phone. 

“Oui?”

“I’ve done it. I’m driving for Ferrari next year.” It feels good to say it outloud, especially to you because you know just how much it means to him. 

There’s silence from your end for some time and Charles checks to make sure you hadn’t hung up on him, but the call time is still going. He’s about ready to say your name when he hears sniffles echo through the speaker.

“Are you crying?” He’s worried he’s somehow done something once again to make you upset. 

You are in fact crying, as much as you hate it. It’s a mixture of happy and sad tears that you're desperately trying to wipe away like he can see you. Happy tears for him finally signing with Ferrari, a goal that you knew he would accomplish with no issue. Sad tears because you wished he was here telling you in person, wished that things were like they used to be, wished that you never developed feelings for him, and wished that whatever that situation was in Monza last week had never happened. 

“I’m just really happy for you Charlie.” His heart skipped a beat hearing you call him Charlie, it had been too long since you’d graced him with that nickname for his liking. “I told you Ferrari would see what they had missed out on and come running.” 

A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled that night on the swings when he told you about him getting into F1. “I wanted you to be the first person to know.” You can’t ignore the butterflies that form in your stomach at the thought of him thinking about you, wanting you to be the first to know, but you’re still crying, your emotions all over the place. 

When silence fills the line and he still hears your sniffles, he knows it’s not just happy tears you’re crying. It was time to face the elephant over the phone. 

“Listen I know things have been weird between us these past couple months and,” He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “I know it’s my fault. I broke that promise I made you and I hate myself for it everyday.” The idea of him distancing himself from you was the dumbest idea he’s ever had. He wasn’t better off without you, he was better with you. His feelings towards you aside, he’d rather die than not have you in his life. 

“I got so caught up in this new lifestyle and I lost myself for a while.” Maybe he shouldn’t be lying to you, but he wasn’t about ready to admit you know what. He’d already fucked up enough, he didn’t need to go spilling his guts and fuck everything up even more.

“And then in Monza I was shocked to see you there and I felt like an ass for forgetting about you and I was trying to figure out what to say, but you were clearly upset and it was honestly just a mess.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Basically what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for being a dick and that I really miss you.” 

His thumb toyed with the ring on his finger as he waited for your response  and he remembered you still didn’t know he still wore his. “I also still wear my ring. I just hadn’t gotten the chance to put it back on after qualifying last week.” His gaze never broke from the ring as he spoke. “I don’t like that you think I would ever stop wearing it. Gonna wear it till the grave Y/N.” 

His last sentence was mumbled, but you heard him loud and clear. Your gaze shifted towards your dresser where the silver ring had sat for the past week. Perhaps you had jumped the gun with your actions last week, you knew he had to take off his jewelry when he got into the car, but in the moment your emotions were telling you otherwise. “You made me feel like shit Charles. It’s a horrible feeling to see someone exiting your life in real time and knowing you really can’t do anything about it.” 

“I know and I’m so sorry.” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration, and he thinks he’s done it so many times that he might have a bald spot by morning. 

You feel like you’re forgiving him too easily, but you’ve missed him so much. And to hear him finally admit that he fucked up and say that he missed you too has you unfortunately very easily swayed. He’s been in your life for so long it’s felt like a piece of you was missing these past couple months without having contact with him. So, you forgive him, because you love him.

“I want things to go back to normal, like before.” You’re standing in front of your dresser now, ring rolling between your fingers. 

“They will.” He glanced back down at his ring. “I promise.” 

“You promise?” You asked as you slid the ring back on your finger, a missing part of now you back in its rightful place. 

“I promise.” 

twenty two and twenty five

Over the past four years Charles and you had matured significantly. 

You had graduated and landed a job that you loved at home in Monaco. It required you to travel a lot, which you loved, but also came with amazing off time and flexible hours. A perk you were beyond grateful for because that meant you could attend the majority of Charles races. You had also gotten your own place, a cute little apartment, and was truly embracing adulthood. 

When it came to the love department though– Charles was still there.

Over the four years you had your share of talking stages and two boyfriends who both only lasted a couple months. Your hectic work schedule didn’t help matters, but neither did your feelings towards Charles that you’ve been harboring for the past eight years. You really would have thought you’d have gotten over those, figured it was a thing of adolescents, but your twenties came and the feelings never went. It wasn’t as bad as when you were younger, you learned to handle yourself better and your job keeping you busy helped that. The two of you were at a good place in your relationship and you came to terms that unless you were a big girl and confessed your feelings to him, then you were just going to have to live with him at arms distance. 

Like you when it came to romantic relationships–  you were still Charles number one, as much as he tried to make it work with other girls, they just weren’t you. He had thought multiple times over the years that he was going to tell you how he felt, but you were either talking to someone or had a boyfriend, the timing never right. So he learned, like you, to live with his feelings towards you. A thing that was necessary if he didn’t want a repeat of what happened when he tried to distance himself from you.

So here the two of you were– adults who were completely oblivious to how either of you felt about each other for years, hopelessly pining over each other. 

Charles' career on the other hand was more of a success story than his love life. In the past four years he had accomplished his Maiden win in Belgium during his first year with Ferrari and then his second the next week in Italy. Then went on to win three more races during this year's season. 

A season with three wins may sound like a great accomplishment, but the thing was that he should have had more than three. To say that Charles' fourth season with Ferrari was stressful was an understatement for the ages. He had never been more happy for winter break to arrive than he was this year. He had started the season out on a high by winning the first race of the season, but life somehow had a way of humbling him. 

Horrible strategy calls from the team, bad pit stops, and car troubles had cost Charles his chance at the championship. It seemed like for every high he had– five lows followed. So needless to say when he saw the checkered flag at Abu Dhabi he was somewhat relieved that the season was over and perhaps making the podium may have lifted his spirits a little too. 

But that relief was short lived, because in true Charles fashion, he can’t get out of his head about the what ifs from the season. He had wanted to just let it go, leave it behind him and look forward to this time off and the new season ahead. But all his brain wanted to think about was maybe if we would have gone with softs instead of hards or pitted one lap earlier or managed his tires better then maybe he would have been still coming down from the high of winning the championship right now instead of sulking about. 

He’d been a little distant since break started and you knew he was probably in his head about everything. So when a text pops up on your phone from him late one evening telling you to meet him at the harbor you don’t even think twice about telling him you’ll be there in ten. If you had to guess what he had planned, you’d bet all your money on taking his yacht out to look at the stars. It was something the two of you had done for a couple years now, but it was usually over summer break, not the week before Christmas. But for Charles you would do anything, even brave going out on the water, at night, during the winter. 

When Charles see’s you walk up to his slip on the dock wearing what looks to be the coziest outfit and holding his favorite blanket from your apartment he thinks his heart is about ready to explode. “You’re lucky I love you Charles. It’s gonna be so cold out on the water.” 

I love you. The words echo in his mind as he helps you into the boat. It’s nothing new for you two to say it to each other, and he’s under the impression you’re saying it platonically, but god does it sound so heavenly to hear those three little words come out of your mouth and be directed towards him. 

“I’m the luckiest man alive.” He’s referring to you and that glimmer in his eye would tell anyone that he was, but you don’t see it, you’re too busy getting situated in your designated spot next to the captain's seat. 

Once he’s got the boat a good enough distance out into the water he deploys the anchor and you make your way out to the loungers on the deck. You push two of them together, making a big enough space for both you and Charles to relax. 

You’re already cozied up with the blanket by the time he makes his way over to you, but he doesn’t even have to ask, you’re already pulling back the blanket for him to slide under. 

He lets out a sigh once he gets comfortable beside you. “I needed this.” 

A hum in agreement comes from you as you scoot a little closer to Charles, a gust of cold wind blowing through the air. 

“There’s the big dipper.” Charles points his finger up to the sky, your eyes following where he’s pointing to. The two of you take turns pointing out what you think are constellations, but are undoubtedly random stars in made up shapes, but it doesn’t matter to either of you. 

The gentle lull of the waves crashing against the boat fills the silence that falls between the two of you once you’ve run out of things to point out. And you’ve somehow ended up cuddled into Charles' side, his arm wrapped around you, and your head on his chest. You couldn’t help it, he’s always been a walking furnace, and when the opportunity presents itself to be in his arms you were gonna take it. 

It was something that was happening more and more with you two recently– pushing the envelope per say on what your friendship entailed. Cuddling, staying the night at each other's apartments, hands lingering a little too long after a hug were all normal things for friends to do– right?  Friends who somehow while doing these things couldn’t tell that the other person felt the same as they did. 

Love may be blind, but in Charles and your’s case, you were blind to love. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been out here, but you think you could spend eternity out here with him. The feeling of comfort, safety, and the feeling of home that he brings you when he’s around is something you don’t think you can ever live without again. He’s your person and you hope you're his, no matter what the future for the two of you entails. 

The feeling of his fingers ghosting across your arm and down towards your hand tells you he’s searching for one thing and when his pinky finger links with yours you know he’s got something on his pretty little mind. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You whisper, your head still resting on his solid chest.

He doesn’t respond for a while and you think he perhaps didn’t hear you, but then he speaks and it sounds like blasphemy coming out of his mouth. 

“What if I quit?” 

Your body freezes at his words and you’re hoping he’s not meaning what you think, but when you lift your head to see nothing close to a joking manner on his face you know this is about to get serious. 

“I’d think you’d be miserable. You love racing, you were born to do it, it’s in your blood Charles. All the hard work you’ve put in from a literal child to now–” You shake your head, not even wanting to think about him quitting racing. “Don’t be stupid and throw it all away. You’re just only getting started.” 

A deep sigh comes from him, his eyes fixated on your now intertwined hands as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m not going to, but there were so many times this past season that I thought about it. I know that’s crazy to say after I won three times, but god the lows of racing truly are lows. I’d have a good weekend and then have literally a weekend from hell the next race week. It’s just a lot– mentally. Trying to live up to everyone’s expectations, the teams, the fans, the media, and my own is like a mental prison sometimes.” 

You had sat up at this point, and almost like a small child Charles had clung to you, his head in your lap as you gently ran your fingers through hair. You knew he had a rough season, but you didn’t think it had taken this much of a toll on him. 

“And you’re right. I love racing and I’d be miserable without it, but sometimes I’m miserable with it.” 

The frown that had formed on your face moments ago had deepened at his confession. “I didn’t know the season had affected you this much Charles. Wish you would have talked to me sooner about it.” 

“Sorry.” He mumbles. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for Charlie, you’re allowed to feel how you feel. And I know you probably get sick of hearing me say it, but I’m still so immensely proud of you. Like I’ve said before, you could finish dead last in every race and I’d still be proud. I know this season was a rough one at times, but you won three times and were on the podium eleven times. That’s still something to be proud of. So for every time you're miserable because of racing, think about me telling you repeatedly how proud I am of you and maybe you’ll just be miserable because of me instead.” 

You see the corners of his mouth move up and you know you’ve gotten a little smile out of him. “That’s funny that you think me hearing you say that you’re proud of me would make me miserable. It actually has the opposite effect, so your plan may work, but it would result in me being happier instead of more miserable, which is what I think we want to accomplish right?” 

“Yes, I love happy Charlie, but I still love miserable Charlie too.” 

He’s sat up, the two of you sitting face to face now, and you aren’t sure if it's the cool breeze or him staring at you that makes a shiver run up your spine. “That’s good to know.” 

He’s still staring at you and even with only the moon as your source of light, those pretty blue eyes of his are as bright as ever, and staring into your soul. And for a split second you think he’s leaning in and you think this might be the moment he’s gonna kiss you, the moment you’ve been waiting for since you were thirteen. But you’re completely wrong, he’s only reaching for the blanket as he leans back onto the lounger once more. 

“Merci Y/N, truly. For always being here for me, especially for tonight. It was nice to finally get that off my chest. Je t’aime.’ 

You claim your spot back next to Charles and you don’t even second guess yourself when you lay your head back on his chest. “Je t’aime aussi Charlie.” 

Charles, while he can’t complain about having you in his arms and your head on his chest. He can kick himself for that moment mere seconds ago. He was finally going to do it, it was the perfect time, but he chickened out and reached for the blanket instead of using that hand to cup your cheek. He could drive a race car at 230 mph, but couldn’t work up the courage to kiss the girl he was in love with. Maybe he’d find the courage sometime in the next four years. But for now he could live with having you cuddled up against him and knowing that even if it may be platonic, you love him too. 

twenty three and twenty six 

The Monaco Grand Prix. 

An world renowned event. A pinnacle for motorsports. People from all around the world come to the tiny principality every year to watch twenty of the world's best drivers race around the streets of Monaco. 

As a child you watched the grandstands go up every year and you dreamed of getting to watch Charles race those very same streets that you took to school. The two of you as kids watching from the crowd, not knowing that some of those drivers Charles would drive alongside one day, even being teammates with some of them. Charles could only hope that one day that would be him on that top step, hearing his own national anthem play at his home race.  

That one day had yet to happen after six seasons in F1. After three DNF’s, horrible strategy, and two lost pole positions– Charles really didn’t think winning his home race was ever going to happen. He had started to believe the “Monaco curse” more and more year after year. 

You on the other hand didn’t believe that the curse existed. You did believe that the idea of one had made Charles be more in his head when the race came around every year, and in a sense perhaps making him not perform the best at times. But no, you didn’t believe in the Monaco curse.

Every year you had hoped he would win and sadly when he didn’t you were there to pick up the pieces. You knew his time would come and granted you didn’t think it would take this long. But the universe works in mysterious ways, there’s a reason for everything, and you knew there was a reason Charles hadn’t won yet. 

And as this year's grand prix rolled around you hoped that this time the universe was ready to give him what he deserved. 

You did have a good feeling about the race this year, or at least a better feeling than prior years. It was mainly because Charles had been so– carefree these past couple days. He’s usually already thinking about Monaco at the race the week before and the nerves have set in come media day, but this year he’s different. 

He’s excited of course, to be at home for the week and to see everyone for more than a couple days, but during the days leading up to media day he doesn’t show you any sign of nervousness or doubt. And you can’t help but think that this year is the year, he seems to finally be in the right headspace to win this thing. 

Charles and you had spent basically every free moment the two of you had together this week. It was nice, the two of you together again like old times. You had gotten the week off from work, a perk from your job, and it wasn’t like Charles had to travel to another country. So, the two of you took full advantage of the week. Dinner with both families together, hanging out with friends, and just enjoying each other's company filled your Monday through Wednesday. 

But come Wednesday evening you found yourself at Charles apartment after a long day on the water with all your mutual friends. You’re absolutely beat and ready to be back at your place when Charles asks you to come back to his, and you want to say no, but the way he looks in golden hour could be used as a hypnotization technique, so you say yes. 

He claims he’s got something to show you, but the whole car ride and trek into his apartment he won’t budge on telling you what it is. It isn’t until he sits down at his piano with a blush creeping up his neck that you know what he’s got to show you. 

“Have you been working on new music?” You ask with a hopeful smile on your face. 

His fingers ghosted over the keys and his pinky lightly tapped one– the sound filling the room. “For a while now and I think it’s finally ready.” The blush had made its way onto his cheeks and he’s fidgeting with his bracelets as he makes eye contact with you. “So, I think it’s only right that the person that it’s for should get to hear it first.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise and now you’ve both got crimson painted cheeks. “You wrote a song for me?!” 

“Yeah.” He states sheepishly. 

You’ve always loved hearing Charles play the piano. There were many late nights spent where you sat in his apartment and just listened to him mess around on the piano. Those nights were shamelessly some of your favorite moments with Charles, it was like the world didn’t exist and it was just you two and the piano. So to know that he thought and even cared enough about you to write you something had your heart about ready to leap out of your chest. 

“Well, let's hear it then.” You sat down on your usual spot on the couch and eagerly waited for the music to hit your ears. 

He hesitates at first, his fingers slightly slipping on the keys, but once he gets himself sorted the sound that comes from that piano nearly brings tears to your eyes. It’s beautiful and heartfelt and you can’t believe he wrote something like this while he was thinking of you. It’s tugging at those feelings you’ve still got for him after ten years and you try not to get your hopes up that this means he feels the same as you. 

When the song is over his head immediately turns to you for reassurance, but all he sees is your body barreling towards him. You’ve got your arms around him before he can even process what’s happening, but from your excited words of nonsense he knows you loved it. 

“Oh mon dieu!” Is the first coherent thing you’re able to get out. 

“I take it you liked it?” 

“Liked it? I loved it Charlie! It was beautiful and the fact that it was for me made me love it even more. Truly what did I ever do to deserve someone like you in my life? Merci a million times.” 

“I’m glad you loved it. I’ve been working on it for months, wanted to get it perfect in time to show you now.” 

You’re both beaming at each other and to anyone from the outside looking in, the two of you looked so in love it was crazy. Crazy that the both of you have been harboring feelings for each other for years and years and neither of you have made the first move. 

“Will you play me some more?” You try to give him your best puppy dog eyes and of course he can’t say no to you, puppy dog eyes or not. You give him one last hug as a thank you before you sit back down on the couch and let the melodic sounds soothe you. In fact it soothes you so much that combined with the tiredness from being on the boat all day you end up eventually falling asleep. 

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you feel Charles gently shaking you awake telling you that is time for bed. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to spend the night at one another’s places. You’ve spent many nights in Charles' guest bedroom after drunken nights out or sometimes just for fun. You’re clinging to him, still basically asleep, as he helps you walk towards what you think is the guest bedroom, but it’s his. 

Charles was only going to grab your pajamas that you had left here last time, they were just in the laundry basket on his dresser and it would just take a second. But you followed him into his room still thinking it was the guest room and Charles doesn’t even know you’ve come in behind him until he turns around to see you crawling into his bed.

That all too familiar feeling starts to bloom in his chest as he sees you curled up and comfortable in his bed. He’d want nothing more than to climb in next to you and hold you all night, but he knows the guest room is his room tonight. Charles doesn’t even make it two steps before you call out his name. When he turns around he’s not expecting to see you lying there staring at him with those sleepy eyes, comforter pulled back as you pat the empty spot next to you. He knows he shouldn’t, this is different than cuddling on the couch or sharing beds as kids, it feels different at least. But against his better judgment he climbs in next to you and like he’s your missing puzzle piece you instantly slide into Charles arms. 

It’s like home, being in each other’s embrace. 

The next morning when you wake up in Charles' room it takes you a minute to remember everything, but the blush that creeps onto your face at the memory of you and Charles cuddling in his bed is embarrassingly bad. And you thank god Charles isn’t next to you right now to see it. 

You do wonder where he’s gone though. He’s not in the living room or kitchen, and it’s still too early for him to have left for media day, but then you hear complaining coming from the bathroom. 

“Maman! No, that's going to be too short!” 

As you peek around the door frame you find Pascale cutting Charles' hair, a tradition the two of them have had every year before the Monaco GP. 

“Charles last time I checked you’re not a hair stylist, let your Maman do her job.” You teased as you finally entered the bathroom and you see him roll his eyes at you in the mirror.

Pascale lights up at the sight of you and leans over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Mon amour, you’re here early.” The look on her face tells you she knows you spent the night, but it’s not like it’s something new or anything happened. Hell even if she didn’t know she could definitely tell you had just rolled out of bed. 

“I spent the night. Fell asleep after we were out on the boat all day.” You shrugged your shoulders, it truly was no big deal (you sleeping in his bed and cuddling with him aside). 

She doesn’t say anything, but she does nothing to hide the smile on her face and sly looks she gives you and Charles the whole time she’s cutting his hair. She’s been waiting for the prophecy to fulfill itself forever and that prophecy just so happens to be Charles and you ending up together. Call it Mother’s intuition, but she’s known you two were made for eachother since you were kids. If you didn’t end up together soon she was going to have to do her own plotting to get you two to fess up about your feelings.

Pascale can see how you two look at each other, how Charles’ eyes light up when you enter the room. How you’ve always been his soft spot since you were little kids. The way you speak about Charles like he’d hung the stars and the moon in the sky. She knew you fell first and Charles a couple years later. All these little things she’s noticed and stored away for that eventual wedding day. 

You can see Charles staring at you through the mirror and it’s making you squirm, his eyes burning into you. “You gonna get rid of that facial hair too?” You try to get him to focus on anything other than you at the moment. 

His mouth opens in fake shock and Pascale curses him for moving. “I’m actually thinking of growing a full beard.” 

“Oh please don’t.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘’t.” 

Charles and you don’t speak about you spending the night in his bed or in his arms. In fact you don’t see him again until qualifying on Saturday where he puts it on pole. You’re ecstatic and you can tell he is too even though he’s trying to remain calm and collected while he does his press duties. He’s gotten pole two times before in Monaco, he knows pole doesn’t mean you win, but he can’t help but think it’s a good sign. 

That night you find yourself back at Charles' apartment by his request once again. Which was a surprise, you figured he’d want to be alone the night before the big race. But it’s quite the opposite, he wanted your company, he can’t get how good it felt to have you in his arms in his bed the other night and he selfishly hopes it happens again tonight. 

“Feeling good about tomorrow?” You asked as the two of you sat down for an amazing pre race dinner of pizza. His trainer may not like it, but you two thought it was a good idea. He needed all the positive energy he could get and if that meant pizza for dinner, then so be it. 

“Yeah. The car has been consistent the past two days and I’ve got pole.” He paused for a moment and you can tell he wants to say something, but he stuffs his mouth with pizza instead. You don’t press the matter anymore, figuring he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, didn’t want to possibly jinx anything. It’s a relatively quiet dinner the rest of the time, he asks about how your job is going and you two shamelessly gossip for a moment about two old friends who recently broke up. 

It’s not until you’re putting the leftover pizza into the fridge that he brings up tomorrow again. 

“It feels right this time.” He’s leaning against the counter, eyes trained on you as you turn back around to face him. “I mean tomorrow– it feels right. I think it’s gonna happen.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you move to lean against the counter next to him. “I think so too. You’ve been different too, more relaxed this week. Think it might be the universe telling us it’s finally gonna happen?” 

A deep sigh comes from Charles. “Mon dieu I hope so.” 

You glance over at the time on the microwave– 11:00 p.m. Shit. You didn’t think it was that late already. 

“It’s getting late Charles. You should be in bed and I should be heading home. It’s a big day tomorrow.” You go to give him a hug goodbye, but he’s just staring at you, and it throws you for a loop. “What’s wrong?” 

He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Was he sure he wanted to ask you this? Would it make things weird? It never has before when he’s asked you, but this time felt different. Fuck his palms were drenched in sweat and he could feel his heart beat racing. 

“Um– well you could just spend the night if you wanted to” 

You try not to act like you weren’t silently hoping the whole night that he’d ask you to stay. You had figured he wouldn’t want you to again after you basically invaded his bed the other night, so hearing him tell you to stay made you a little giddy. 

“Traffic is a nightmare this time of year…” You act like you're weighing your options while you fully know you’re going to say yes. “Probably take me twice as long to get home, even at this time of night.” You fake ponder some more, really putting on a show. “Yeah I guess I’ll spend the night.” 

He tries to hide the smile on his face when he hears you finally accept his offer and as much as he would like to stay up and talk some more, he really did need to be getting to bed. “Well, I probably should be in bed by now. So I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” 

“Yeah. I should go to bed too.” 

So you follow him down the hall towards the bedrooms. When he reaches his room he opens the door, but lingers in the doorway. You being a couple paces behind him, figured he was just waiting to tell you goodnight. But when you reach the guest room, which is across from his room, he doesn’t say anything to you. Your hand lingers above the door knob and something inside of you tells you not to open it– to turn around instead. 

You’re met with his piercing blue eyes staring at you as you turn around. His gaze sometimes could be so intense, but this time you matched him. There was an obvious tension in the air, but neither of you were brave enough to be the one to break it. Then suddenly you see Charles nod his head towards his room before finally going past the doorway. He’d left the door open behind him and you knew that was just another unspoken invitation. And like a moth to a flame you followed behind him, not even second guessing your actions. You hadn’t even opened the guest bedroom door, you were a goner as soon as he asked you to spend the night. 

For the second time in a week the two of you shared the same bed, not sexually, but it definitely wasn’t friendly or at least how normal friends would share a bed. But tonight he’s in your arms, your fingers lightly combing through his hair as he rests his head on your stomach. He falls asleep rather quickly, his light snores filling the room, but sleep evades you that night. Your heads a mess, you can’t help but think that Charles has to feel the same way as you, there’s just no way that he doesn’t. 

What man is this intimate with someone in a non sexual way and doesn’t have the slightest bit of feelings for them? But then your heart breaks at the idea of him just stringing you along and you know you’ve got to set up some boundaries to protect yourself. Unfortunately you were never going to be the one to admit how you felt first, so unless he spills his guts, then this was the last time you’d share a bed with Charles like this. 

The next morning he’s already gone and at the track by the time you wake up and when you grab your phone from the nightstand you see he’d sent you a text. 

Charlie: i left early this morning and you just looked too peaceful to wake up before i left. so i’ll see you before lights out. 

A sigh escaped past your lips as you tossed your phone on the bed, today was going to be a long day. 

You made the journey back to your apartment to get ready and then fought the traffic again to get down to the circuit. The hustle and bustle distracts your brain from continuing your spiral session from last night, something you were grateful for. You were here to cheer on and support Charles, not go into a frenzy once again about whether or not he likes you. 

A good amount of your time is spent in Ferrari’s hospitality chatting with everyone and discussing potential outcomes for the race. You don’t end up seeing Charles until the time between the drivers parade and race time. He’s in his drivers room when you find him and he’s literally the calmest you’ve ever seen him before a race. 

His face lights up when he sees you and he’s immediately pulling you in for a hug. “Didn’t think you were gonna come for a second. We’ve usually seen each other by now.” 

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Just got caught up talking to everyone and you know how our Moms get in a large group. I had to wrangle them in before they invited everyone over for dinner tonight.” 

“Well I don’t plan on being home for dinner tonight. I’m going to be out celebrating.” He’s got a cheeky grin on his face as speaks. 

You laughed lightly at his new found confidence. “Oh someone is sure of themself.” 

He only laughs along with you, as the two of you sit down on his physio table.

The two of you chat some more about random things, like if he’s planning on going to Jimmy’z or someplace else tonight. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been talking until he gets a knock on his door letting him know it’s twenty minutes till lights out. Before you leave you stand in front of him, holding out your ring clad pinky finger and like a natural reflex Charles wraps his around yours, pulling them close to his chest. 

“You’re gonna do great and when you take that top step on the podium I’m gonna be there front and center cheering you on.” 

“You better be.” He’s serious, he doesn’t want to win this thing if you aren't right there alongside him.

“I promise Charlie.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You think you might pass out or throw up when the lights go out and the race finally begins. It then turns into thinking you’re going to do both when there’s a red flag not even halfway through the first lap. Your mind automatically goes straight to Charles and your stomach churns at the idea of him being hurt, screw the win, all that mattered to you was that he was okay. Thankfully he’s not involved in the crash, but the red flag lasts for what seems forever. And eventually you have to endure the start of the race again. 

You’re a nervous wreck the whole race, but you think with how hard Pascale has been gripping your hand that she might be more nervous than you. It’s the longest 78 laps of your life and you’re praying he can maintain the lead, put a big enough gap between Oscar that he can just ride this race out. Lap by lap he’s holding steady but that just makes you more nervous. The knot in your stomach grows more and more as that lap number gets closer to 78. 

He’s driven so well the whole time you couldn’t have been more proud. You’d been holding back tears since lap 68, but when you hear him over the radio on lap 75 say that he’s just going to bring it home you can’t help but let a couple tears fall. And by now you know the win is his. He’s got almost a nine second lead and as long as he keeps his head clear he was going to be the first one to see the checkered flag. 

The feeling of seeing Charles cross the finish line and knowing he had won was indescribable. The whole Ferrari unit was going crazy, already rushing down to be there when Charles got out of the car. You’re cheering as tears run down your face, your Mom and Pascale hugging you, the two of them also in tears. It’s surreal, him finally winning, you can only imagine what he’s feeling like right now. You waste no time in heading over to get the best spot to watch the podium ceremony. You’re front and center, the metal barrier pressed up against your abdomen as more people fill the crowd behind you. 

The feeling you got seeing him come out, take that top step, and proudly hold that trophy was something you wished you could feel forever. To see him wrapped up in the Monaco flag as the anthem played, the visible weight taken off of his shoulders. You were so unbelievably proud of him and so utterly in love with him. The tears just wouldn’t stop coming as you watched him shine up there. The universe had finally decided that this was his time, he was destined to win this race today. 

Charles feels on top of the world as he looks down at everyone in the crowd, he can’t believe he’d finally won his home race. He’d immediately spotted you as soon as he took that top step and he could see how happy you are for him, tears streaming down your face paired with that beaming smile. His heart has never felt as full as it does right now. And as he stands there hearing his national anthem play at his home race he knows that today was meant to be. The universe put him here, put you here, for a reason. He’s tired of pretending like his life wouldn’t be better without you being his. The two of you haven’t broken eye contact for awhile, both of you grinning like fools, and he decides that now is the time. 

“Je suis amoureux de vous” He mouths to you. 

It takes you a moment to realize what he was saying, but when you do you think you’re dreaming. There’s no way he just admitted to being in love with you right here, during his podium celebration. You pinch yourself just for good measure before mouthing it back to him. And if it was even possible his smile gets even bigger. 

You’re the first person he wants to see after the celebratory champagne pop. He can’t wait a second longer to tell you how he actually feels out loud. He doesn’t care that he’s drenched in champagne or that there’s hundreds of people around. He’s waited too long to let a moment like this go by. He’s pushing his way through the crowd to find you, he’s basically getting manhandled, but he doesn’t care, you’re his priority. And when he finally finds you it’s like a scene straight out of a movie. 

His adrenaline is pumping and he doesn’t even think about what he’s doing, he’s just running straight towards you, his heart fluttering when you smile at the sight of him. His hands cup your face and in an instant his lips are on yours. It takes you by surprise, but once your brain finally processes what’s happening, you grab him by his race suit, pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss. He tastes like champagne and sweat, his lips soft, and his facial hair tickles your face. Kissing Charles is everything you could have ever dreamed of and more, you’d never thought the day would come. 

When you finally pull back it feels like the world is spinning and Charles laughs at you being drunk off one kiss from him. His hands cup your face once more causing you to focus on him. “I’m in love with you. Have been for years, but I’ve just been too scared to say anything, but winning today let me know the universe was on my side. And I couldn’t pass up the opportunity once again to tell you how I feel.” Your eyes widen at hearing him say he’s been in love with you for years. “Don’t act so surprised. I made it painfully obvious sometimes.” His dimples peaking out as he smiles at you. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen Charlie.” 

Now it’s his turn to look surprised. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Was too scared that you didn’t feel the same.” 

“I could never not love you Y/N. It’s always been you, you’re my person. I wish I would have  told you sooner so I could have been doing this more often.” He pulls you in for another kiss and you think if he didn’t have his arms around you your legs would have given out. 

Never in a million years did you think that Charles would be confessing his love to you after he’d just won his home race. If thirteen year old you could see you right now she’d probably die. You can’t believe the man you love with every fiber of your being loves you back. The universe definitely wanted today to be a win not only for Charles, but for you. 

He grabs your hand and presses your ring clad pinky finger to his lips. “Mon coeur.” Then he presses another kiss to your lips. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime aussi.” 

thirty three and thirty six

The summer sun had started to make her farewell to the principality of Monaco, pink and orange hues swirled in the sky. A little boy and girl play on a weathered playset, their giggles echoing through the open air. The sound of a screeching sliding door tells them that their Maman is coming to get them before they even hear her holler their names. “Come say goodbye to grand-mère and grand-père!” 

Their tiny bodies run towards the house and are soon met with lots of hugs and kisses from their grandparents, who they see very often, but it wouldn’t seem like it by the way they were acting. 

“Ok, who wants ice cream?” Their Papa asks after all the goodbyes are said and they are out the door. 

“Me!” Is said in unison from the two children. 

The little girl has her Papa wrapped around her finger, he just thinks the world of her as they walk hand in hand down the street, while the little boy is definitely a Maman’s boy. 

“You know your Maman and I used to come to this place all the time when we were younger.” 

“We know Papa, you’ve told us a hundred times, and we come here all the time.” The little girl sasses her Papa.

“I know but I just like to reminisce.” The man gives his wife a wink and she knows he’s about ready to go down memory lane.

The journey to the ice cream shop is filled with stories about their younger years and luckily for the children the ice cream shop isn’t that far away. 

That all too familiar sweet smell soon fills the parents senses and it brings them back to when they were around their children’s age. That same bell on the door dings as they enter and that same old man who should have retired a decade ago is still working behind the counter. 

“Ah the Leclercs! My favorite family. You know I’m gonna have to start making extra vanilla ice cream just to accommodate you guys.” 

taglist: @rana030 @blueflorals @sltwins

[landososcar]

so american ; CL16

pairing(s) ; charles leclerc x american!reader

summary ; in which a trip to monaco turns permenant because of one ferrari racing driver

warnings ; fast paced relationship, smau, google translated french (pls correct anything that’s wrong) & FLUFFF

note ; lol sorry i lowkey disappeared. anyways. here’s charles and leo (aka everyone’s fav duo)

instagram !

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youruser leo & i might never leave 🥰🇲🇨

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friend1 monaco is so so beautiful

yourbff you can’t leave me here alone in the us

youruser but…

charles_leclerc im stealing her

yourbff you’ve know her for 3 weeks

charles_leclerc whats your point ??

friend2 the states miss you come home

friend3 leo has a new lap to sit in????

yourbff i feel cheated on

charles_leclerc i’ll make sure you don’t leave ☺️❤️

youruser having the best time of my life with you🫶

yourbff saying you’re not gonna let her leave is kinda creepy not gonna lie…

charles_leclerc you’re just jealous coz she doesn’t wanna go back to the us and wants to stay with me

friend4 you look so happy😁

instagram !

liked by fan1, fan2, and others

cl16updating recent pictures of charles with a puppy, fans who asked him about the dog say his name is leo and he is not charles dog but he is staying with him for a while!! we are also unsure who the girl in his car in the last picture is, if anyone has any idea please share her instagram @ with us!!!!!!!!

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fan1 omg he’s not his dog??? i’m devastated now i wanted leo paddock appearances

fan2 idk maybe if you guys find her instagram @ don’t share it,, if charles wanted us to know about her he’d share with us

fan3 if she doesn’t want us to know about her maybe she shouldn’t hang out with the prince of monaco

fan4 she should be able to hang with whoever she wants. some of y’all are so weird

fan5 imma steal that dog

fan6 that means we probs won’t get leo in the paddock😭

fan7 maybe leo is the girls’ dog and she’s a friend of charles visiting him or something idk

imessages !

translation 1: ‘i’ll miss you so much’

translation 2: ‘we can be crazy together, my love’

twitter !

instsgram !

youruser added to the story!

charles_leclerc added to his close friends story!

charles_leclerc replied to your story

↳ you always do baby

↳ god you’re so cheesy

↳ i hate you

↳ can we go back home i miss leo

↳ charlie babe leo will be fine by himself for 3 hours

↳ i know i know

↳ i just love him so much

you replied to charles_leclerc’s story

↳ CHARLIE DELETE

↳ THE DOGS ARE OUT😭😭😭

↳ LEO GOT OUT??????????????? WHERE IS HE ??? IS HE SAFE??? DID SOMEONE FIND HIM??:??;??/??

↳ omg baby no leo’s fine i’m sorry for worrying you

↳ why would you joke about that

↳ i think i nearly had a heart attack

↳ you’re more obsessed with leo than me

instagram !

liked by user1, user2, and others

f1wagupdates charles and his girlfriend (leo’s mum — we don’t know her name) this saturday. the owner of the first pic said that they were out for dinner with pascale, arthur, lorenzo, and their girlfriends.

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user1 she so beautiful oh my god

user2 where’s leo

user3 girl she doesn’t have to take him everywhere

user4 i think her name is y/n… my cousin in america said that she looks like someone she used to go to school with

user5 i looked through charles’ following and he follows a private account with that name @youruser

user6 ooo that could be her fs

user7 did she really leave leo alone.. she’s a bad owner wtf

user8 leo is a dog he’ll be ok by himself for a few hours omg you just want a reason to hate her go touch grass

twitter !

twitter !

instagram !

liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and others

charles_leclerc happy gorgeous amazing month ☺️❤️

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user1 CHARLES who is THAT

user2 Y/N CONTENT ON THE MAIN ‼️‼️‼️

carlossainz55 whipped

user3 omg is she playing his piano

user4 yes with her feet

youruser love love love you

charles_leclerc chérie💓💓

user4 anyone else think they’re moving REALLY quickly…. like i heard they’re living together already

user5 who CAREEESSSSS

user6 it’s none of our business

yourbff you’re all she talks about oh my GOD

charles_leclerc are you jealous

instagram !

liked by leclerc_pascale, yourbff, and others

youruser “too much, too soon” i’m living with him lol

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yourbff remember when we had conversations that weren’t about him

youruser wdym

yourbff i hate him

yourbff you’re OBSESSED with him

yourbff you guys are DISGUSTING

youruser you sound jealous

yourbff i AM. that little french driving man STOLE my best friend

charles_leclerc FRENCH????????

friend1 miss you 🫶🫶

joris__trouche ❤️

friend2 come visit soon we miss youuuu

friend3 you’re so so so gorgeous

charles_leclerc MON AMOURRR

charles_leclerc YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL I WANNA KISS YOUR FACE

yourbff can you get me a ticket to the miami gp so i can see my wife pls

charles_leclerc no you’re gonna try steal her back

yourbff @youruser ur boyfriend is being mean to me

youruser charlie i lost my miami paddock pass can you get me another one pls but like could you put it under the name y/bff/n y/bff/ln please, for no reason☺️

charles_leclerc okay baby💓💓

youruser stop it i love you so so much you’re so adorable😭

leclerc_pascale Leo ❤️

youruser he misses you 🥰

imessages !

my other works !

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (34/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The boat that's actually a yacht - and it's just the two of you.

Warnings: fluff, minimal angst, Google translated French, no knowledge of boats

Word Count: 3.9k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: we're back bitches!!! love you. feedback is appreciated!

"What do we need?" you ask, taking a sip of your coffee. "Apart from Kika's spontaneous photos, I've only taken pictures of inanimate objects so far. And the one of you."

Charles shrugs his shoulders. "When Joris and I take photos together, we'll pack a bag of different clothes." When you raise an eyebrow in confusion, Charles purses his lips. "We always take several photos, for several posts. If we don't have time to take new pictures, we always have some in stock that we can use without them looking like old pictures."

"Okay." You put your mug down on the work surface in front of you. "Anything else?"

Your roommate grins. "Your camera."

"Haha." You toss it off with a kitchen towel. "I mean, do you need anything else in the way of props or anything?"

He shakes his head. "Actually, no. Everything you could possibly need for a photo shoot is already on the boat." He nods towards the hallway. "You just need long clothes in case it gets colder later."

You nod. "All right. Then you pack a bag with the things you need and I'll pack one with clothes I can wear if it gets cold later." You walk around the kitchen island towards the hallway. 

"And don't forget your camera." You can even hear the smirk, which is why you give him the middle finger without turning around. 

As you stand in your room, you don't really know what to pack. 

Although it's supposed to be twenty degrees outside - which sounds totally surreal for a day before Christmas - your weather app tells you that it's going to be almost three degrees at night. 

"How long are we staying on the boat?" you shout loudly so that Charles can hear you. You throw a large bag on the bed. 

"No idea," says Charles calmly. When you turn around, he's standing in the doorway. "You and I can leave after the pictures. Or stay there all day. Or the night." He shrugs his shoulders. "There's no time when the boat has to be back in port."

You sigh. "I'm afraid that doesn't help me much." You point to the bag on the bed. "I can't pack my entire closet, Charles. Tell me what to pack." You look at him pleadingly. 

"All right." He enters your bedroom and looks around before reaching for some clothes lying on the floor. "Here, the sweatpants are good. If you want to lie out on the sun bed in the evening, you'll need these." He tosses them to you. You catch them and fold them up to stow them neatly in your bag. "Do you have comfy socks or something?" 

"Ehm, yeah," you say, pulling some out of the pile of clothes Kika left there and tucking them into the side pocket of the bag.

Charles kneels down on the floor and sifts through the pile at your feet. "You'll definitely need a thick sweater. It's going to be pretty windy when we're out at sea." He rummages around in your clothes until he fishes out a black sweater and holds it out to you. "Tada."

The first thing you notice about the sweater is that it's not yours. The black hoodie is too big to be yours. The second thing you notice about it is that it's the sweater Charles gave you the night you went to your favorite place. 

The night Charles showed you his talent on the piano. The night you almost kissed. It feels like it was a lifetime ago. 

You can't tell Charles that you don't want to wear the sweater, even though it's incredibly comfortable. It certainly still smells like Charles, although perhaps not as strongly - after all, he hasn't worn it for days. You don't want to be wrapped up in his scent and be at risk of getting weak. The distance that needs to exist between you is the right thing to do. 

Charles looks at you questioningly from the floor and you realize you've already hesitated too long.

"That - that's not my sweater," you simply say. 

Your friend examines the sweater in his hand. "Really?" he asks, confused, smelling the collar. "But it smells like you."

You shake your head. "That's yours. You - uh - you lent it to me when we went to petits mondes," you explain as he folds the fabric and puts it to one side. 

"Oh. Right." He looks at the sweater before his gaze lands on you again. "You can keep it if you want."

You wave it off. "It's all right. Thanks for letting me borrow it. But it's yours after all, so..." You step nervously from one foot to the other. 

Charles watches you for a moment and then turns away. "All right, then. How about this one then?" He pulls another sweater out of the pile of laundry. This time it's actually yours. It's white, with red stripes on it and the collar reaches up to your chin. You definitely won't catch a cold in this. 

"It's good," you reply with a smile and catch it as he throws it to you. You fold it before putting it in your pocket as well. "What about your clothes? Do you want them in the bag too?" you ask him, hoping that he will take his clothes separately and not infect your clothes with his smell. 

Charles gets up from the floor. "I'll pack my own bag. You still have to pack your camera," he smiles, patting non-existent dust off his pants. "About the trip to the port..." he begins, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You grab your camera bag and stow it next to your clothes in your bag. Hopefully the spare battery is charged. "Hmm?"

"I suggest we take your car and I'll drop you off. Then you won't have to walk far to get to the boat," he explains. "I'll park your car in a side street and then join you. Then we won't be seen together."

You look at him, confused. "Can people just get on your boat like that? Aren't you afraid that some crazy fans will suddenly come out of - I don't know - your cabin?"

Charles has to smile. "Someone will be waiting for you there. They'll let you on the boat."

Embarrassed, you curl your lips into a thin line. Of course there's someone at the docks to make sure no one sneaks onto strangers' boats. "Okay."

You stand opposite each other, undecided, until Charles takes the first step. "I'll just pack my bag and then we can go." Smiling, he disappears from your bedroom. 

While Charles stuffs everything he can find into a bag, you gather some snacks in the kitchen to take with you on the boat. Charles has hinted that there would be a cook on site, but you might not be there for too long, so a proper meal wouldn't be worth it. 

As you prepare some sandwiches and put them in a bag, Charles appears behind you. "Are you ready?" he asks, leaning on the kitchen island. 

"Yep," you reply and place a few small bottles of water next to the sandwiches. When you look at Charles, he grins. "What is it?"

"Nothing." His grin almost reaches his ears. "There's water on the boat too, you know."

You roll your eyes. "I've never been on a boat before." 

Charles raises his eyebrows briefly before shrugging his shoulders. "It's not as special as you make it out to be."

You squint your eyes a little. "Only rich people say that."

He tilts his head. "Do you want to go on the boat or not?"

"Like I said," you start the sentence and grab the snacks, "only if I can steer it once."

Charles reaches for the keys to your Renault. "Don't you dare crash it," he warns you as you walk towards the elevator. He presses the button and a short time later the doors open. "That boat was expensive."

"Don't worry," you try to reassure him. "I'll just hold the wheel firmly and steer straight ahead." You wink at him and step into the elevator. 

Charles has to smile and follows you. "I think I'll only let you take the wheel on the open sea. There's much less risk of you ramming other boats."

"You have a lot of faith in me," you say with mock hurt and put your hand on your chest. 

"I do," he says seriously. "I'd trust you with my life."

-

You walk uncertainly around the various walkways. 

Before you got out of the car, Charles said there would be a man standing in front of his boat to help you find it. You would also have to say a password so that you would be granted access to Charles' boat. 

"For security," he explained. "We don't want everyone to get on the boat."

With your two bags on your shoulders, you walk past a few boats that certainly cost more than you'll ever earn. But nowhere is there a man to signal that you are in the right place. 

There are a few people at the harbor, but no one pays you any attention. They are chatting with friends, frolicking on boats and enjoying the warmth of the sun one last time before the year is over and winter finally sets in. You walk past them with your head down. 

Cautiously and indecisively, you walk on and the boats become yachts on which great parties are sure to take place in summer. They are big and nice and you wonder whether you should google one of the types to find out what price range the yachts of the rich and famous are in. 

You are torn from your thoughts by a man. "Madame? Vous cherchez quelque chose?" are you looking for something? 

Somewhat taken by surprise, you stop. You are standing in front of a large, white yacht. With its two floors, it towers above its neighbors by quite a bit. 

"Uhm," you look at the man uncertainly. "Je cherche le bateau d'un ami," you explain. I'm looking for my friends boat. 

The man raises an eyebrow as if he's wondering what you're doing here. Your uncertainty and searching eyes probably made you stand out immediately. You don't fit in here, that's for sure. 

When the man doesn't answer, you try the password Charles told you. "Chicken?" you ask uncertainly, but when the man smiles at you and reaches for your pockets, you exhale with relief. 

You've found the boat. Thank goodness. 

The man helps you onto the yacht and leads you past the sun bed into the interior, which is much bigger than you imagined, and places your bags on a couch. A couch. On a boat. How crazy. 

"Voulez-vous boire quelque chose?" would you like something to drink? He smiles kindly at you. 

"Non, merci," you thank him and look around. On the floor, next to a couch and a small bar, is the steering wheel, which you hope you'll be able to take the plunge on later. To the right, a staircase leads down to the lower floor, where there are not just one, but three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen. 

Astonished, you run your fingers over one of the large beds. The fabric is soft and pleasant against your skin and you can almost imagine how comfortable the bed would be if you snuggled up there after a day in the sun. 

"I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't find my boat." 

As you turn around, Charles is standing at the foot of the stairs, watching you. Without further ado, you sit down on the bed behind you. "I was looking for a boat too. Not a castle on the water."

He has to grin. "The boat is still relatively small compared to the ones that dock here in the harbor in summer."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

He takes a step towards you. "Really. I'm the outsider with my little boat. There's nothing under five stories." He bites the inside of his cheek. "How do you like my boat?"

You nod. "Your yacht is really nice." You grin at him and take a look at the bed you're on. "But why do you need so much space at sea?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I usually spend the summer break here with my family. Not all of the time, of course, but when we go out on it, it's quite a few days. And I'll be damned if I'm going to share a bed with Arthur."

You try to suppress your grin, but unfortunately you don't succeed. "Why? Does he kick while he sleeps?"

"No," says Charles, leaning against the bed at a little distance from you. "But he used to steal the blanket in the past and then I had to freeze all night."

You raise an eyebrow. "Couldn't you have just fought for it?"

"Believe me when I tell you I tried several times," he rubs the back of his neck with his hand. "He practically wraps himself up like a burrito and when that happens, you've lost."

"Then I know who I'd never share a bed with," you joke, but Charles looks a little more serious.

"I hope so." Before the mood can turn negative, he smiles at you. "Are you ready? Shall we go out?"

You look at him excitedly. "Oh yes." You jump off the bed and smooth out the creases you've left in the comforter. "How long will it take us to get outside?"

"Not long at all. I think twenty minutes and that's it," he explains, turning to head up the stairs.

When you reach the top, Charles gets behind the wheel. You look at him, confused. "Are you driving the yacht?"

"Yep."

"All the time?"

"Yep." He grins at you. "Except for the time you're at the wheel, of course."

You want to jump up and down with excitement. "And where's the man who let me on the boat?"

Charles presses a few buttons and the display in front of him comes to life. "Thomas? He's left the boat."

"Are we all alone?" you ask uncertainly and sit down on the couch. "I thought you still had a chef on board?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "You brought some snacks with you. Thomas also packed some food in the fridge in case you and I want to cook something later."

You purse your lips. You would spend the whole day on the water with Charles. Alone. And you would take pictures of him, which he would post on his official Instagram profile. And you would cook in the small kitchen in the basement. The distance you want to maintain between you seems to be shrinking somehow. 

"You're not going out on the boat with me to kill me and get rid of me discreetly, are you?" you ask him jokingly. 

"Believe me. If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it on our first day," he grins and puts his hands on the steering wheel. "Are you ready?" Charles asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. His green eyes sparkle in the sunlight and small dimples form in his cheeks as he looks at you. 

Gorgeous. 

You smile back. "I'm ready, captain."

He winks at you. "Let's go then."

Concentrating, Charles steers his yacht out of the harbor between the other boats. The rocking is surprisingly pleasant and not as bad as you expected, so you lie down on the couch and wait until you arrive at your destination. Charles remains silent for a while, so you don't say anything either, worried about disturbing his concentration, but while he steers the boat, you start working on your camera settings and think about which one would be best for your shoot. 

After twenty minutes, the yacht comes to a halt and Charles turns to you. "Alright."

Excitedly, you get up from the couch and follow him outside to the sun bed you had your eye on when you boarded. As you look around, you are amazed. You can still see the land in the distance, but you are so far out that it almost merges with the horizon. Although there is a sea breeze blowing around you, the sun is so bright that you don't freeze. It's reflected on the clear water and you want to put on a bikini and jump in. 

Charles seems to notice your gaze. "Next summer, I'll take you with me and then you can swim and sunbathe here until you get sunburnt."

You smile at him. "I'll gladly take you up on that offer." You glance back inside. "Do you need to get changed or are we going to start straight away?"

Charles snaps his fingers once before pulling his shirt over his head and disappearing towards the interior. You try not to stare after him and you ignore how wide his back is and how his muscles move under his skin as he puts his shirt down on the couch. He opens his bag and pulls out a white shirt. When he turns back to you, you turn away quickly, hoping he hasn't noticed you watching him. 

"Ready when you are."

Charles changes clothes more often than you can imagine. He has different outfits ready for every pose and every location on his yacht, which he slips into in order to take the best possible picture. In between, you take a sandwich break on the sun bed and enjoy the warm sun on your skin before getting back to work. 

It doesnt take long for you to figure that Charles is the perfect man for the job. He's so easy to work with, even though he jokes most of the time and you surely have more photos of him looking funny than serious. But you enjoy it the way it is. Happy, free, without a care in the world.

When you have finished and Charles is happy with the photos you took, he suggests going home in the evening. You nod and sit down on the couch. 

When he looks at you expectantly, you raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What is it?"

"I thought you wanted to steer the boat." In his hand, he holds a bandana that he ties around his head to control his hair, which is messy from the constant changing of clothes.

You widen your eyes. "I thought you were messing with me."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Why would I do that? There's nothing and no one here that you can put at risk. And you won't be steering for long." He leans against the seat in front of the wheel. "If you want, the seat is yours."

Excited, you get up from the couch and get behind the wheel. Charles explains everything to you and you try to concentrate on his words as best you can, but he is so close to you that his scent of perfume, a little sweat and him envelops you. 

With his help, the boat sets off and you jump up and down on the seat with joy. Your hair is blowing around your head and it's so loud that you almost scream. "Oh my God! How fucking awesome is that?" You don't even notice that you've let go of the steering wheel.

"Hands on the wheel, you crazy woman!" laughs Charles, holding the wheel tightly. As you look at him, you see a spark of the Charles you know. The Charles that existed before yesterday. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you apologize and put your hands back on the wheel. "Oh my God! Can you take a picture of me?" 

Charles takes two steps back and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. "Smile, please."

You grin so wide it almost hurts, but you can't stop. It seems so unbelievable that you are on a yacht and even get to steer it. 

You smile at Charles, tears stinging your eyes. A few days ago, you were almost homeless, all alone and on your own. There aren't enough words in the world to describe how grateful you are for the Monegasque who took you in. Who took you into his heart without hesitation. Who was there for you without batting an eyelid.

Fuck, you love him. And nothing in the world will ever change that.

"Thank you."

He lowers his cell phone. "For what?"

A tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek. "For everything." 

Charles takes a step towards you and you would love to take him in your arms and never let him go again. But he stops an arm's length away from you and smiles at you. "I would do anything for you."

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks, so you avert your gaze and look ahead again. Monaco is getting closer, but you would prefer to stay here. On the yacht and on the sea. You don't want to go back to reality yet - not if you can be here with Charles. The way it was before.

"I don't want to go back yet," he voices your thoughts and puts a hand on the wheel. When you look at him, he smiles a little brokenly. "I don't want to go back yet because I'm afraid that things won't be the same between you and me. That I'll lose you. And I don't want that." 

His words hit you so hard that you can't breathe. You would love to take him in your arms and kiss him and reassure him that you belong to him like the sand belongs to the sea, but that's not the way Charles means it. 

But you don't care how Charles means it. You belong to him - no matter which way.

"Then let's not go back," you suggest. "We - we can stay here and we won't go back until tomorrow."

Charles' smile looks forced. "And then?"

"Then we'll go home." You bite the inside of your cheek and purse your lips. "To our home."

Charles exhales in relief, as if the elephant that had been standing on his chest had finally gotten off of him. As if he had been underwater for too long and could now take his first breath. He would love to stay here forever, with you, far away from the reality of all the pressure he is under. 

As you smile at him, the pressure seems to fall off him. As if he has finally reached his destination, wherever that may be. Like he's home. 

Fuck, he'd do anything for you if you just asked him to.

He motions for you to let him into the seat, and as you swap places, he brings the yacht to a halt. As the engine shuts down, he slides off the seat and turns to face you. 

"Have you ever gotten drunk on a boat before?"

[catcze]

not particularly a request if u don't want it to be but as a fellow wriothesley enjoyer I wanted to share this idea

fontaine is based off of france right? so the thought of wrio being able to speak french and absolutely using that to his advantage to be a flirt has been driving me insane. he would be INSUFFERABLE (especially if his s/o isn't fluent) and I'd be loving every second of it

(also love your works <3 it's the main fuel that's been making me so horrifically down bad for him)

OH ?!!? MY GOD ?!?! HEHAKJDJ FUCK I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I CANT NOT !! It's a little short and a little sweet, but i hope you like it!

(Translations listed at the end! I used google translate, so if there's any mistakes, please feel free to correct me!!)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley has started to say things to you on the regular— but for the life of you, you can't understand. It starts first on a slow day. You're lounging in his office, reading a random book you've plucked from his shelves. He's just looking through some papers, doing nothing too important.

Then, Wriothesley glances up from his papers, lets his eyes fall on you. "Tu me rends si heureux."

And you're furrowing your brow in confusion, staring at him. It's a phrase form his mother tongue, that much you know. But you're not sure what it actually means. The way his smile is a bit too mischievous, you don't think that he intends for you to understand, anyway.

"I'm... sorry?" You ask. What else can you say? You're pretty sure from his insufferably smug expression that he's not going to tell you what it means anytime soon. At the very least, you're pretty sure he's not shit talking you to your face.

Your eyes narrow.

Probably.

He can see the question on the tip of your tongue, the suspicious glance you cast his way. Wriothesley just chuckles and goes back to the papers on his desk.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

The next time, he does it as you're having dinner across from each other in the cafeteria. Your meal is halfway done, having been practically shoveled into your mouth. It probably paints an unflattering picture, but you're too hungry to really care. Resting on the table, he's stubbornly gripping your hand in his own, fingers intertwined. Even though it made eating much more difficult, Wriothesley would scowl and reach back for your hand whenever you tried to take it away, so you just considered it a lost cause.

Lost in filling your stomach, you're almost don't hear what he says.

"Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi." Wriothesley mumbles, thumb stroking the back of your hand tenderly.

You narrow your eyes again, a silent question.

Wriothesley just smiles secretively and raises a hand to his mouth, miming zipping up his lips and locking it with a key, then tossing it away. He winks at you, and you roll your eyes. No answers today, apparently.

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been saying?" you ask once you've swallowed your food.

"Mm. Maybe one day. If I feel like it." And he's grinning again— the cheeky one that he wears whenever he one-ups you, that showcases his dimples and his teeth. You kinda want to punch him, but it also makes you remember how handsome he is when he smiles.

"Fine," you grumble, sighing. You busy yourself once more with your food. "Keep your fucking secrets. See if I care." You do. A lot, actually. You're very curious now.

Wriotheley just smiles and lets you eat.

But he slips up, one evening. To be fair, it's late at night after a hard day's work. Both of you are exhausted— a tangled mass of limbs and sheets on your bed, both of you halfway asleep already.

Your head is cushioned on his chest, nose pressed against his collarbone, and his arms wrapped around you. Wriothesley's nose is pressed into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. His breaths are deep and slow, and you can tell without even looking that his eyes are fighting to stay awake. You're no better, though.

Just before you nod off though, you can feel the brush of his lips against your hair. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement," he says quietly, lips brushing the strands in affection. If you had just been the slightest bit more asleep, you might not have even heard it.

But while you may not be fluent in his language, may know little else aside from the most basic of phrases, you recognize that one. It's hard not to, when it's arguably one of the most popular phrases from his mother tongue. Je t'aime. I love you.

Something gooey finds its way into your chest, and the blood rushes through your body as you're overcome by the sheer sweetness of the man you're laying on. Slowly, you crane your neck up to face him, and can see the slight widening of his eyes, the quiet oh shit that runs through his head.

"Is that what you've been saying?" you ask, voice just as quiet as his. Wriothesley hesitates, arms tightening their hold on you.

"... generally, yes."

You smile gently, scooching up enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips, giggling when he leans down to make it easier for you. You bury your head into his neck then, resting your cheek against him. "I love you too, Wrio."

Translations:

Tu me rends si heureux. — You make me so happy. Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi. — I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. — I love you. I love you so much

[leclercloml]

Enchanted to meet you | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x singer!reader

Summary: everyone's favourite swiftie is finally off the market, but who's that lucky guy?

Genre: SMAU

warnings: google translated french, grammar mistakes, incorrect time line to match the story line

Author's note: i reached the picture limitation so I'll do a part 2 of this as soon as I can and I'm still not very good at this, and I'm completely out of ideas, so please bare it 🫶🏻

fc: Gracie Abrams

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yourinstagram uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love.

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sabrinacarpenter oh no, I'm falling in love again

⤷username hahahahaha it's just a taylor swift reference guysss hahahahaha nothing too serious

⤷username Sabrina what do you know, please tell your kids too babe.

username mother mother mother

oliviarodrigo i think I know who it is

⤷conangray SHE TOLD YOU??!!

⤷oliviarodrigo she tells me everything

⤷username lmaaaoo Olivia knowing who's y/n love intrest is and conan going crazy over it is my new favourite thing

username whoever is her new boyfriend and if he's reading this, sweetheart sleep with one eye open

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charles_leclerc

milan, italy

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charles_leclerc what a beautiful show, love the songs, love the performance, thank you so much for inviting me to this beautiful event.

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yourinstagram I'm glad you had fun

⤷carlossainz55 he really did he won't stop humming "where do we go now"

⤷charles_leclerc hey! it's a good song

⤷username helloo?? What is happening??!!

username I still can't believe it's real, it feels like a weird fever dream 😭

username okay but are we not gonna talk about that caption and how girlfriend she looks in the 2nd slide??

⤷username finally! I was waiting for someone to say this!

username okay guys here me out, first y/n posting her pictures with caption "uh-oh I'm falling in love" which is a lyrics from Taylor Swift song called labyrinth and basically confirming she's in love and probably dating someone and then Olivia officially confirming it by commenting "I think I know who it is" and then Charles out of blue arriving at y/n concert which by looking at caption it seems like he was invited and the 2nd slide, he was in front row and the picture look way too "girlfriend" and charles is also single and so is y/n, so maybe...MAYBE Charles might be y/n new boyfriend?

⤷username ma'am the delusion is crazy

⤷username I've connected the two dots.

⤷username you didn't connect shit.

⤷username I've connected them.

yourinstagram added to story

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Twitter

Instagram

f1

liked by scuderiaferrari , yourinstagram and 45,673,459 others

f1 CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF 2023 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX! 🏆❤️

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scuderiaferrari that's how we win a home race 💚🤍❤️

⤷username can't believe you guys didn't fucked up his race

username call me delusional but y/n is his lucky charm

⤷username no but fr

⤷username listen @/scuderiaferrari you guys need to invite her to all of the races now.

⤷scuderiaferrari on it 🫡

charles_leclerc

liked by yourinstagram, carlossainz55 and 45,274,523 others

charles_leclerc what a win! 1-2 brought it home for all of the tifosi's out there! And also congratulations to Carlos on P2! That's how we win it and also thanks to all of the fans, team and my lucky charm! Forza Ferrari Sempre 💚🤍❤️

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carlossainz55 congratulations on the win mate ❤️!

⤷charles_leclerc thanks mate! congratulations on the podium!

yourinstagram SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU AND CARLOS!

⤷charles_leclerc couldn't have done I without you my lucky charm 🍀

⤷username AHHHHHH SHE IS HIS LUCKY CHARM SCREAMING CRYING BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL!

⤷username just confirm your relationship already 😭😭

⤷username i don't think we need a confirmation this is already so obvious

landonorris congratulations mate!

liked by charles_leclerc and yourinstagram

username the ONLY driver to beat RedBull this year! @/yourinstagram please come to all of the races from now on 🙏

⤷yourinstagram I'll try my best 🤍

⤷username AHHHHHH!!!

PS: this is sooooo rushed I'm so sorry, I'll do a part 2 as soon as I can! Please give feedbacks 🫶🏻

Part 2!!

[here-lies-they-ran-outta-luck]

Hi, I saw a note that you are accepting requests and if you aren’t totally ignore this

But could you write something with Theo nott, where she speaks a different language and her English isn’t perfect so she makes a mistake instead of saying she’s going to meet someone she says she’s going on a date and he gets all upset and jealous, maybe angst to fluff or something <3 I think it would be cute

- Thanks 🪐🪐

It's A Date (Theodore Nott x F!Reader)

warning- she/her pronouns, google translated french, i changed it a little from the request but it's basically the same.

a/n- I am in a very Theo Nott mood if you can't tell.

word count- 721

“I don’t know, I just really like her,” Theo says, his cheeks slightly rosy due to Pansy’s prying.

“Oh come on! There’s got to be something specific you like about her,” Pansy says, giggling at the tall boy’s embarrassed state, “Just give me three things you like!”

“I like her french accent, I guess,” He answers after a small pause, “She’s also pretty and so sweet. I’ve got no Idea how she was ever sorted into Slytherin.”

“I think you should ask her out. She would definitely say yes, you’re an absolute catch!” Pansy says, getting more excited about Theodores crush.

“I’ll think about it. Let’s get going for breakfast,” He answers, grabbing his satchel and walking out of the common room.

Not soon after the two get settled down at the Slytherin table, the lovely smell of your vanilla perfume fills Theo’s nose. “Bonjour Theo!”

“Good morning,” He replies, giving you a small smile and scooting over to give you some room.

“How has your morning been?” You ask, he blushes slightly at your strong accent. His Italian accent was never that strong, he only ever spoke Italian around his mom and her family. You however spoke it all the time, you and Draco had a plethora of conversations in French.

“Better now that you’re here,” after a small pause he gains a slight amount of confidence, “I was wondering if maybe-”

“Hi, (Y/n),” a boy from Ravenclaw says, cutting off Theodore before continuing, “Would you want to accompany me to our next Hogsmead weekend?”

“Yes,” You say with a smile, “It’s a date!” You didn’t really mean that it was a date at all, it was simply just an expression you’d heard. However it broke all of Theos confidence he previously had.

“De toute façon, what were you saying Theo?” You ask, turning back to the pretty boy with hopeful eyes. Unknown to anyone, you also fancied Theo.

“I was um- just wondering if you got the paper on alhistoy?” Theo says, ending his sentence with a large gulp of orange juice.

Your smile deflates a little bit, “Oh, yeah I did.” You pull out your paper and hand it to him. Theo had already gotten the paper finished, so he just silently stared at the prettily written page for a few seconds before handing it back.

Theodore didn’t talk to you very much for the next few days, he spent a majority of his time alone talking to Pansy about his heartbreak.

Theo didn’t plan on talking to you until after your trip with the boy, and even then he wanted to wait a while.

“Hé! How have you been Theo? I’ve missed you!” You say, finally getting to see him.

“How was your date?” He asks, angry, not looking at you.

“I didn’t go on a date?” You reply, puzzled.

“Did you end up not going then?” He asks again, looking up at you.

“I went to hang out with a friend, but I didn’t see it as a date,” You answer, taken aback.

“You didn’t?” He asks, standing up and walking towards you.

“Non, we’re just friends,” You answer with a smile, now looking up at the boy.

“But you said it was a date,” He says, with a flat face.

“Isn’t that just an expression you English people use?” You reply, laughing slightly at the boy.

“Okay,” He replies, slowly.

“Are you okay Teddy?” You ask, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah,” He says, absentmindedly, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“What?” You reply, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Teddy, are you sure?” You ask, sucking in a breath, waiting for his response.

“I was a little heartbroken when you said it was a date,” He breathes, pulling you into a hug, “Now I would like to do what I was too scared to do. Would you like to go on a date with me?” He asks after pulling away from the hug slightly.

“I would more than love to go on a date with you, Teddy,” You say, giving him a smile and pulling him back into a hug, smiling even wider when you feel him smile into your neck.

“It’s a date then? For real this time?” He says, muffled by your neck.

“Obviously,” You say, laughing at his lame joke.

[certainlynotasimp]

Just A Bite.

(Miguel O' Hara x Female! Reader)

A/N: Hello~ I got another Miggy and Sunny post for my beloved readers, and I think you'll like it. I'm still working on the request too, but I had this idea and I had to write it. Also if you want to be notified about this series, please leave a comment on this post, and if you wanna read more then check out my master list.

Also thank you guys for 100 followers! I really appreciate you guys so much and I hope you all stay with me on this journey!

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barley any use of (Y/N) ((Sunny is a nickname, not her name)), Female pronouns, Miguel being a teasing mf, Gwen being a snoopy spider, Establish Relationship?, Fluff, a little break in canon, and Google translate Spanish ((please give me critique if you guys are fluent in Spanish because I don't know how to speak it.))

Still haven't seen the movie yet so excuse any inaccuracies.

“So are they?” Jessica stops picking at her salad as the younger SpiderWoman peers over her shoulder.

Turning her head slightly, it didn’t take her long to discover what the young protégé’s attention is focused on. 

The signature blue costume hugged the tall Spiderman as he stood several feet away from them. His normally dangerous talons were hidden by the two trays of food in each hand. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance as he seems to be hyperlinked on something. It didn’t take long before Jessica figured out who she needed to spot as the source of Miguel’s irritation. 

The black and white costume of the tiny spider caught her eyes first before she realizes that Peter B. Parker had enamored her attention away from Miguel.

 Well, not so much him, but the one-month-old Mayday Parker had the Spider Society's sunshine orbiting around her. Her little hand grasps around the digit of an older woman as Sunny cooes. A look of awe and sadness filled her eyes as the whole world seemed to disappear around her.

“Are they what?” Jessica asks as she turns her attention back to her lunch, mildly groaning as her little bug certainly didn’t appreciate the diet their daddy put them on. 

“Is Miguel and (Y/N) together?” Gwen repeats her question as she analyzes Miguel’s body language.

It was odd to Gwen as Miguel appeared to be annoyed that he had to hold their plates while waiting on her, but he didn’t make a move to say to rush along the tiny spider. In fact, Gwen nearly choked on her drink as she sees the longing gaze in his garnet eyes.

“To be honest…” Jessica catches Gwen’s attention again as she starts packing away her now empty tray with trash. “I’ve been a part of the Society for a long time, but Sunny was here before I was. Her and Miguel are kinda a packaged deal, but I have no idea if they are together.” Gwen tilts her head with a confused look on her face. She knew the older Spiderwoman was one of the first members of the Society when Miguel created it, but she didn’t know the cheery spider was here longer than Jess. 

“She was here before you?”

“She was here before all of us.” Peter interrupts as he plops in the seat next to Gwen. The infant was now quietly sleeping against her father’s chest with webbing holding her up. Peter steals one of Gwen’s french fries off of her tray as Gwen looked annoyed by him. “Miss Sunshine was the first spider Miguel recruited from what I heard, and I should know.” He plops the fry into his mouth as he chats. “I was the second.”

Jessica chuckles at Gwen’s shocked face at the realization as to how long the futuristic spider man has had his cheery companion. “Little bit wants to know if the big guy and Sunny are a thing or not?” Peter raises an eyebrow as he teases Gwen, “Why? You got a crush on one of them?”

“Ew, no. They are old and I’m 16. It's just they are always together and they seem like a couple, but they don’t do normal couple things.” Gwen whines as her face burns in embarrassment.

“First off, they are not old.” Peter scoffs as he runs a hand through his own graying hair. “Miguel is 28 and Sunny just turned 27.”

Jessica giggles as a memory pops into her mind. The look on Miguel’s face when his smaller companion brought him a cake she made for his birthday will forever be Jessica’s favorite moment since joining this team. Well, the second greatest moment. The slight teary-eyed look the leader gave to the bouncing spider as he had to endure her butchering the birthday song was also very funny. At least she can cook better than she can sing.

“And adult relationships aren’t like the ones you’ve seen in high school.” Peter sighs as he remembers the regretful decisions he made in high school. “They aren’t gonna make out in the hallways or tell each other that they love each other every five minutes.” “So they are together?” Gwen slaps Peter’s hand away from her fries, which causes the baby to stir. Peter hastily bounces the baby as he throws Gwen a glare.

“Oh, I have no idea,” Peter answers honestly as Gwen plops her head on the table. “Why don’t you ask them?”

Jessica smiles fondly as Mayday stares at Peter as he finally starts eating his own food. Her hand wanders to the growing baby bump as she looks into Gwen’s frustrated gaze. “Never hurts to ask. But I suggest asking Sunny because Miguel will deny everything.”

~~~~

“Miss. (Y/N), are you dating Spiderman?” Gwen rehearses to herself as she wanders down the corridor, trying to find her cheery colleague. Gwen groans as rubs her face in frustration, hating all the ideas she came up with sounded childish. How do you ask a grown woman if she is dating her boss? Especially if you’re mutant superheroes who travel to different dimensions and fight anomalies in bright spider costumes.

Just as Gwen rounds a corner, a series of grunts fall into her ears as she draws closer to the combat simulator. One of Lyla’s ideas for the HQ was to include a training room with the ability to use advanced AIs to simulate how fighting in different dimensions. She also thought it would be a fun idea to make it a level system so Miguel can review their abilities and hand out missions appropriate for the skill sets. Gwen attempted to fight in there several times, but she always gets her ass handed to her once she reaches level 3. 

Reaching the door, she peers into the window and sees a disheveled Miguel as he stood in his spider suit in a barely lit simulation. His back to her, she can see his shoulders heave as he pants for a breath of relief in this difficult setting. Despite his lack of spidey sense, Gwen knew he was pretty agile and was one of the strongest Spidermen they had. His talons emerge as his mask disintegrates. His fangs shine in the dim lighting as he looks around the room, looking for something. 

Hunting for something.

She ducks when Miguel looks her way before peeking her head back up. Before she can realize what’s going on, a flash of white gets whipped at the menacing spider, causing him to shred the opposing webbing to bits. Miguel focuses on the direction the attack came from as a smirk rolls onto his face as he approaches his invisible prey. His eyes a dangerous red as his mischief and hunger grows at the anticipation.

“¿Dónde estás, mi pequeña araña?” The predator purrs as his gaze locks on a particular corner. Gwen could barely hear it, but a faint sound of panting, of his prey trying to catch her breath. “No me dejarías esperando demasiado, ¿verdad? Extraño desesperadamente tu dulce rostro, querida.”

Miguel saunters slowly towards the faint sound, a glint of victory shining in his eyes as the smell of her perfume floats into his nose. His smirk turns into a deviously sweet smile as he cracks the bones in his hand. “Especialmente cuando estás gimiendo tan dulcemente debajo de mí…” He mumbles as he finally lunges toward the corner. Gwen puts a hand in her mouth to hide the gasp as he pounces but tilts her head in confusion as his hunt turns sour.

Miguel looks equally stunned for a moment when he realizes that nothing was in his grasp. He pats around the corner to make sure before his hand gets caught on something. He growls as he tries to free his hand upon realizing that it was a trap. A flash of white traps the other hand to the wall above the other as the air rings with giggles. 

“Caught you, Miggy!~” A voice cheers from above as both Miguel and Gwen look up to the ceiling. In a faint glow of green, the victorious smile of the small jumping spider appears out of thin air. Unexpectedly, Miguel meets her smile with a warm chuckle as the hints of a smile appear on his face. “You certainly did, little one.” He sighs as the woman hops down and lands in a crouch position in front of him. Gwen smiles at the adorable display until the older woman leaned over to Miguel’s shoulder. Miguel flinches slightly with a flush of red covering his face as Gwen realizes what just happened.

‘Did she just bite him?!’ Gwen thought as she stared at the smiling duo in bewilderment. 

“Think its going to leave a mark?” He commented as he watches in amusement as his sunshine glares at him.

“It better! Yours are gonna take forever to heal.” She huffs as she stands up. Miguel rolls his eyes and chuckles at her attempt to appear annoyed. 

“It's not that bad…” “NOT THAT BAD?!” Sunny blurts out, interrupting the amused man.

The top part of her costume disintegrates, exposing her tank top underneath as Gwen had to stop herself from shouting in shock. Littering the small spider’s frame were 5 large bruising bite marks, each featuring two distinct puncture wounds. Gwen looks up at the panel beside the door and sees they are on level 6 of 1v1 combat simulation. The realization dawns on the teenager as her face turns an unflattering shade of red. Before she can witness anymore, Gwen teleports out of the corridor as the duo sees the flash of orange. 

“What was that?”

“I don’t know, but whoever it was is gonna be on trash duty for a month”

~~~~~

“So you ever asked her about if she and Miguel are-”

“No, and I’ll never try to figure that out again.”

~~~~~~

A/N: Please please let me know what else you guys wanna see or throw me some critiques. I love hearing from you all!!

~~~~~~

Taglist:

@ameliadraws 

@tojisrightnut

@whyareyoubored

@silly-lovestruck-em

@luvil1y

@chims-kookies

@himesuedi

@22carolina08

[claraswritings]

Can I Be The One?

Summary: Luca is your childhood friend who has fallen in love with you. Carmy meets you through him and falls for you too Vignettes throughout the years knowing them.

Pairing: Chef Luca x female!Reader / Carmen Berzatto x female!Reader- I have never done this before. There’s TWO ENDINGS so you can pick whichever hot chef boyfriend you want.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, negative inner monologue, allusions to a panic attack, language, slow burn (sort of…it’s a fic which spans years), Google translate used, short smut in both endings, friends to lovers.

Notes:

1. In 2.04 in Luca’s kitchen there’s a handwritten sign that says “Jeg elsker dig” which is I love you according to Google translate 😭. So I wrote that into the Luca ending because who wrote that to him. WHO?who?WHO?WHO?… It was you if you want it to be.

2. I am so up for expanding both of these CHOOSE timelines. If anyone has any ideas for blurbs or just wants to chat pop up.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

PARIS

After some years of Luca working in London restaurants and climbing the ladder, he’d built his skills up at a rapid pace impressing just about everyone, including himself with how good he was. You’d been there for him like you promised through it all, his first successful promotion where he was tasked with coming up with a new dessert. You’d brainstorm with him and hold plates steady whilst he practiced assembly. You were there his countless attempts at spun sugar that you wound up having to pick out of his hair. The day he’d perfected his technique on that had been a relief, both for Luca and you but a sad day for the fine tooth comb industry. Seeing him flourish and be successful made you so happy. People were finally seeing Luca as you saw him. Talented, patient, dedicated and hardworking. Finally, he had something he loved that he could put all of his pent up energy into.

Every time he was offered the chance to a new place, he’d asked you to come with him and every time it had been an easy decision.

Given that you’d studied languages and spoke several, you’d agree with a joke that you’d be his unofficial translator in exchange for being his taste tester. It was easy for you to get freelance work wherever you went so it became you and Luca, travelling the world together.

Only a few weeks ago he’d asked you to come to Paris with him so he could learn new pastry techniques over there and stage at a restaurant, you’d once again agreed knowing you’d be able to pick up some translation work online.

“He speaks French and English by the way.” You said as you made your way back to the Paris Air BnB you’d been staying in over the past month. “He was fucking with the staff.” You continued, referring to the government official who allegedly spoke no English or French.

“I don’t think government officials ‘mess with’ people.” Luca looked down at you and pulled a face, “He was pretty old”

On this particular night he’d called you saying there was a restaurant emergency, a government official had requested off-menu, however when said official arrived, he stared blankly at any attempts to communicate in French or English.

“Don’t they?” You said, “I hate to break it to you but I think that is pretty much the byline of their job description.”

“I think…I think he was just being a dickhead.”

“Also in their job description, darling.” you whistled lowly, laughing as you looked up at him.

The way you called him that. It felt sweet, personable and rolled off the tongue and he suddenly felt it heavy in the Paris summer. Did it feel as loaded to him as it did to you? Probably not. You were so friendly and personable to everyone. Luca shook his head and tried not to make it obvious.

Of course he’d thought about you like that. It had started in fleeting moments.

The first day of his first kitchen job, or several years ago when he went to your university graduation and you’d held his arm as you walked across the grass to have photos taken, or last year you’d stopped in to see him, KFC bucket in hand after your relationship ended (Luca hated the guy anyway), or last month you’d tried 20 different variations of the same caramelized banana dessert he’d made even if you never were overly keen on banana because he’d really, really wanted to impress this celebrity chef that was coming into where he was working as sous chef.

It had become more frequent over the years with a hundred other times in between until he couldn’t remember when it had become harder and harder to put it down to a fleeting thought and closer to ‘I think I might be in love with my best friend’

“You’re messing with me aren’t you?” Luca asked, cocking his head to the side.

“He seemed to understand when I dropped it towards the end of the meal and thanked him sounding like this.” You gestured at yourself “So I’m going to go with…no, he understood…”

“Fucking hell” Luca let out low exhale and then laughed. “Hey…thanks again for helping, the CDC has offered you a free meal.”

“Why do you think I came down.” You joked. “Well that and I like hearing about what you’re making” you added on sincerely.

“You like me being a nerd about desserts?” Luca cocked his head, a slightly teasing tone in his voice

“Yeah but I like it. It’s actually really interesting you talking about your technique” You replied back “it’s like vocal food porn or something”

“Nah,” He laughed loudly at your description and elbowed you jokingly in the sides. “You just have a sweet tooth. I can promise you most people are not that interested.”

“Pfft their loss.…” You looped your arm through his and continued “You know I’m so proud of you, Luca, how much energy and love you put into this. It’s so cool. You’ve improved so much since your first dish and you just keep getting better.”

You were there in the restaurant for the first time a dish he’d fully made himself was served in the London restaurant he’d started at. Thai green curried pineapple. It had gone out first to the table next to you and you’d watched the woman keenly, waiting for her reaction. She’d loved it , of course she had, it was made by Luca. It was an open kitchen so you’d shot him a subtle thumbs up when you caught him staring through, fingers drumming over his mouth, nervous, hoping to alleviate his nerves. You’d proceeded to rave about the dish and her reaction, in detail, to him, all the way home, so excitedly, that you were sure half of the tube heard you. Your pride in him calmed his nerves, put him at ease, not just because you were his supportive best friend, but because it would be impossible to fake your enthusiasm.

Luca turned his head, not wanting to meet your eye for fear he’d run his mouth off ‘Couldn’t do it without you, thank you for always being there for me through it all, by the way I think I might have fallen in love with you’

“Thanks… not just for that, I mean for everything…” he stopped and mentally chastised himself for acting so awkward “How are you finding it?” He asked instead “I ask a lot of you, I know”

“Luca. I get to travel the world with my best friend, working from beautiful locations, whilst he lives his dream. It’s incredible.”

You were looking up at him, smiling, clearly ecstatically happy . And why wouldn’t you be. In a beautiful city with your best friend.

He knew he was your best friend but hearing you call him that felt weird. ‘You ARE her best friend, you’re not her boyfriend. Did you forget? Can master passionfruit macarons in a day but can’t understand that?

“Oh…by the way…I got you something.”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts as you paused on the middle of the path and opened your bag with your free hand and passed him a napkin and written on it was a phrase in French.

“Still keeping up with that tradition?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah I might be.” You teased back. “Don’t pretend I don’t know you love them!”

Luca of course loved the little tradition you’d started and had to fight back the grin that was threatening to break out on his face but he couldn’t.

You’d leave him a message written in the language of wherever he was working at the time. ‘Good luck’ on a napkin for his first role in London, There was one from a trip of Venice (‘You’re the best <3’- sei il migliore), and another from Seville (‘You’ve got this <3’ - tienes esto) and one from Rotterdam (‘I believe in you <3’ - ik geloof in jou). They’d made their way into books, notes from each place he’d visited, pressed between pages as memories.

The newest one in French was ‘I am so proud of you’ - je suis si fier de toi <3

He would keep it with him tucked into a pocket until you left Paris for Chicago and he’d move it into a notebook alongside a step by step for Canelés, a photo of the first time he’d made a Paris-Brest and tickets from your first visit to the Louvre and one of you he’d taken, candid, looking up at the sparkling Eiffel Tower.

———————————————————————————

BOTH

CHICAGO

All you had heard about since Luca had started working at Ever, a 3 star Chicago restaurant, was this other chef.

Every day. All day.

He’d come home to you sounding off. ‘Carmen did this better than me, Carmen is quicker than me, Carmen pitted two bags of peas when everyone else had only pitted half of one,’

You knew Luca wasn’t used to being second best and you knew it was getting to him. He’d been the best everywhere he’d been, except now.

Luca would stay up later and later in an attempt to get better, sometimes only sleeping for an hour. It was as if he felt like all his hard work would be for nothing and he’d be back as the guy who barely passed his exams and got in trouble all the time. You’d wake up, go to the kitchen for breakfast and find Luca had been up for three hours practicing folding dough or picking seeds out of strawberries or whatever the head chef had them doing the day before.

You were growing concerned, you knew why it was bothering him and had voiced to him several times to varying results that there was nothing wrong with being second best sous chef at a Michelin star restaurant. This other guys ability didn’t make him less.

After listening to Luca explain that Carmen managed to get the layering of butter and dough just perfect for croissants and had made two dozen whilst everyone else was still on their first and how he could brown a baked alaska in 15 seconds without the ice cream melting, you’d suggested that maybe he should become friends with him.

“Why don’t you ask him how he does it?” You asked him “Maybe he’d be happy to share?”

“What?”

Luca looked in thought for a moment, as if he was only just clicking this was an option, considering it before you continued.

“I’m worried about how hard you’re pushing yourself, bit of competition is fine but you’ll wear yourself out at this rate…Plus maybe there’s something you can show him that he might need to know”

He knew you were right. You usually were. Typical of you to be able to rationalise his thoughts within minutes. Of course you’d suggest he becomes friends with Carmen, why wouldn’t you... ‘You know me too well, you’re good at knowing what I need to hear.’

***

You hadn’t expected Luca to literally show up with Carmen the next day.

And the next, and the next and the next.

If you were honest, you didn’t know what you were expecting from this guy Luca had ranted about for weeks but you’d gotten on with him far more than you expected. Carmen had been shy at first but as you spent more time with him, you’d grown to liked his quiet humour and how remarkably observant he was. He instantly noticed your jeans as vintage Levi 501s, the only type of jean you’d worn since you could remember and eventually he’d become friends with both of you.

Carmen had taken a liking to you, surprising even himself. You were warm, friendly, and outgoing. You had this incredible ability to make absolutely anyone feel like the only person in the room.

Like when he or Luca broke down the process of making the dish they’d made, you’d be looking like it was describing the most interesting story you’d heard.

Questions like ‘so how do you curl the red pepper tuiles? Is that with a knife or am I a total idiot?’ and ‘is it always a green apple in the sugar dome?’ and ‘how do you know when the yuzu jelly is done?’ Even the things you’d say like ‘Can you make Le Tendance with white chocolate or does it have to be dark’

Carmy knew you probably didn’t know the difference between the different types of pans he mentioned or why it mattered. There was no stake in the debate he and Luca had been having over compressed watermelon sorbet for you. But you cared. You always cared.

It was endearing and made him feel appreciated, kept him passionate about cooking even after a long day so he warmed to you, like you’d inadvertently got a part of him, given him a quiet understanding and support, he desperately craved but thought he’d never get.

He was achingly jealous of Luca and your unwavering love and support. It was evident from how you’d gush supportively over Luca perfecting edible flowers or lychee creme or whatever. Carmy desperately craved more of the warmth and love you gave so freely.

****

“Here.”

Carmy pushed a plate of spaghetti gratin towards you. “uh, try it, lemme know what you think. Something I’ve…erm, been..working on.”

“For me?” You grinned excitedly, not even waiting for him to nod before picked up your fork and helped yourself to some, slipping it past your lips.

“Holy fuck” you moaned as the taste hit you. “That’s amazing, Carmy, so good…”

“Better than that one in Mayfair?” Luca asked, from beside you, with a small smile. Your eyes met his and you nodded causing him to smirk. “Told you it was good, man” he said to Carmy patting him on the shoulder “this guys good at everything!”

“Oh god yeah” you took another bite “Fuck me this is…wow.”

“See…” Luca nodded encouragly “And thats high praise from her. She loves that place!”

“Wha’ one in Mayfair?” Carmy turned to you, curious. He hadn’t been but he knew there was a large list of fine dining places there and was keen to know what, or rather, who you had to compare his against.

“Murano. My family used to have dinner there once a week” you explained “…it’s an incredible restaurant. It does the best spaghetti gratin I’ve ever had…” you dug your fork in again and helped yourself to more, pausing as you did “Well… until this one. Have you been to London? We should all go.”

You were effortlessly likeable, funny. Colourful flowers and feathers snaking their way up your arm, a little silver nose ring, vintage jeans and leather jackets. ‘Of course handsome Luca would have a cool girlfriend like you.’

“You two married long or…” Carmy had asked before he could stop himself and immediately winced at how he’d just blurted it out, kicking himself internally.

Beside him, Luca attempted to cover up his surprised expression as quickly as possible and wondered if it was noticeable how he tensed. Did Carmy have a thing for you? What would you say? Obviously she’s going to say you’re not together because guess what? You’re not. Just because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking she’s your girl doesn’t mean she is. Don’t fuck up the one consistent relationship you’ve had in your life.

“Oh…we’re not, we’re not married, he’s my best friend.” You said off hand as you pulled the fork from your mouth, slowly.

“Oh…I tho…” Carmy stopped himself as he caught Luca’s eye. Did he know?

The pair of them held the silence for a few seconds, each wondering if the other was as into you as they were. Luca moved first, dropping his hand from where it was resting over his lips, as if he meant to speak but you beat him to it

“Can I eat all of this?” You pointed at the dish with your fork.

And like that the moment was gone. You’d changed the subject, completely unaware of the tension in the air.

Carmy nodded. He liked that you always wanted another taste. In the kitchen, taste tests were usually quick, a bite to give some feedback and then on to the next. Here in the kitchen of a rental you’d got a short lease on was different.

The need you had for more of what he served gave him more confidence, reassured him. It somehow felt more rewarding than a colleague having a test only to say ‘Perfect, chef. Thanks’.

And Against all odds and all expectations, he’d found himself also wanting more.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

LONDON

You’d left Chicago with Luca after a few months to move to Copenhagen but had promised to keep in touch. From when you arrived, you’d been raving about it to him. How beautiful it was, how relaxed you felt there, so when he’d been offered the chance to go over to Noma and work, he’d been all too happy to go.

Truth be told, he also missed you. Calls and texts a were not cutting it.

Carmy was never one for answering the phone. Maybe it was a defense mechanism with Mikey never answering and not wanting to get his hopes up that it was his brother finally reaching out. Until you. If anything he found himself calling or texting you even when he was tired.

Talking to you helped switch off the static in his head, it was like you were his reminder to stay grounded, stay in the moment.

Carmy had scheduled his flights so he’d have a few days in London before his flight to Copenhagen, mostly to try the places you’d recommended. He’d reached out to ask for the details and it had just so happened you’d been in town for a friends wedding. You’d offered to come meet you the day after, he’d agreed in a second, happy for the opportunity to spend time with you.

****

Markets sprawled across different corners of the city, each with their own individual personality and you seemed to know them like the back of your hand. He’d let you lead, and it was the fourth one you’d been to with him today and at each one you’d insisted on buying from numerous stalls and making him try a variety of things of varying quality as well as buying yourself a pin that went straight onto the denim jacket you had slung loosely over your shoulders.

“Sometimes it’s good, sometimes less so, you know” you hooked your legs over the bench you’d managed to get to before a large group of school kids. “I know it’s not fancy but I just love the markets. All of ‘em”

“I can get not fancy,” Carmen laughed, something he noticed he did more often around you. It had become almost alien to smile or enjoy himself but with you it came naturally “I don’t really cook for myself all tha’ much” He helped himself to some of your bang-bang noodles and twisted them around with his chopsticks “it’s comfort food. I get it,”

“Yeah I bet…Come home after cooking all day, you probably just want something you can put in the microwave.”

“Sometimes not even that So a week ago? Had leftover pizza and I’m talkin’ anymore leftover and I think it woulda just been gone off pizza. Didn’t even re-heat it”

“I don’t know if that’s gross or impressive!” You laughed and it made Carmy smile, he loved it that he could draw that reaction from you and loved that he smiled, really smiled, with you. He couldn’t remember the last time he could be like that around someone.

You paused for a minute, taking a drink from your can of Diet Coke before you spoke again.

“Reservations at eight by the way. I don’t know if it’ll compare but I wanted you to try it.”

“Reservation?” Carmy tilted his head, wondering if he’d forgotten something.

“Yeah.” You nodded giving him a wide grin “it’s a great restaurant in the Shard. You don’t think I’d take a chef to London and not try somewhere did you?”

****

That evening he found himself in a navy dress shirt he’d bought that same day sitting across from you. You’d changed into a little black dress, a small cardigan that was over your shoulders, sliding slightly down and he could see a pink peony on your shoulder.

If he was honest, he half been expecting Luca to show up but when you’d approached the maitre d, he’d greeted you by name and said ‘table for two’ and Carmy had silently breathed a sigh of relief and then instantly felt guilty over it.

Luca was a nice guy. Carmy sometimes wished he was a raging asshole so it would be easier to put his jealousy of him down to that and not his proximity and closeness to you.

****

“You look really good in navy.” You complimented, cutting through his thoughts. The waiter just had cleared away one of the other countless courses, a sous vide duck, that was as expected; delicious, even if he’d have opted for a different garnish.

Carmy felt his heart pick up. Had you just been sitting there thinking he looked good? He felt himself smile a little but was quick to downplay it, blinking back a response “you… you think?”

“Yeah, Navy really suits you, Carmy. You should wear it more often...”

‘Done’ he thought to himself.

“Thanks, I mean you, uh, you look nice too,”

You smiled at him but before you could respond, the waiter was at your table again, with a further course. Steamed chocolate sponge, baked white chocolate and sugar snap salad, the first of a few desserts.

“Wow” you muttered and you pointed at the plate “this looks so good…” you watched him take a bite and nod approvingly before you asked “Is it weird being on this side of the wall? Doing the eating and not the cooking?”

“A little…uh, I guess it’s not often that m’not worrying about everything being perfect,” Carmy grimaced and ran a hand through his hair “I feel tuned into their kitchen even though I’ve never been in it. Is that weird?” His hand rested over his chin waiting for you to respond.

You shook your head “No… No I don’t think so…” you dropped your voice and leant in closer. He could smell your perfume, your shampoo and soap from your skin. “if so, it’s also weird that I can’t switch off the translating and have been evasdropping on that German couple,” you looked to your right with your eyes

Taking your joke as a distraction from how much he’d like to bury his lips in your neck and kiss you, he laughed and took a bite of his dish. You’d made a good decision, this restaurant was excellent as you’d promised it would be.

Is this what you did with Luca? Go travel and visit places with him and try new foods and laugh?

A mix between jealousy and confusion crossed his mind as the thought occurred and he found himself wondering how Luca could not make a fucking move.

Is he crazy or does he have the willpower of a fucking saint. The question rang in Carmens mind before ‘You’re not making a move either,’ he told himself internally ‘being jealous of her friend, being jealous of a guy she’s known since she was a kid. She’s not into you. She does not want you, fucko. She could do better than you. You can’t compete, she’s not going to want you. You just wish you’d had her all this time like Luca has don’t you, would you have been as fucked in the head if you’d had her supporting you all this time?

“Carmy?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. “You kinda went somewhere there? You good”

“Uh, yeah, imma just go for a quick smoke..” he began to stand up and excused himself as he did

“There’s no terrace, you’ll have to go to ground, you want me to come with?” You made a move to put down your fork, to go with him. You looked a little concerned like you weren’t 100% buying that it was a nicotine craving driving the need for air.

“No no, you stay here, jus’ need to…” he waved and headed out pressing the button to take him to the ground level.

Once Carmy was outside, he ignored the request for smokers not to loiter too close to the building and lit up, taking a drag and letting the nicotine hit, leaning back against one of the pillars.

‘I am so fucked’

———————————————————————————

BOTH

COPENHAGEN

“So the cat…?” Carmy started to ask

He’d been in the city a week, deciding he’d work in Copenhagen for a while before heading to New York, and had been staying on a houseboat that apparently had a cat. Despite the note asking him to leave water out for the cat. The water never moved and there was no cat ever there.

You and Luca shared a look and started laughing.

“We lived on this boat until recently. Six months and I never saw that cat once. Bowl never moved.” you said “My theory is that the cat died and they still leave water out for it, Luca’s convinced it was a stray. He still changed the water every day, which was pretty sweet of him…”

Luca tilted his head a little. You’d thought it was sweet? Him looking after some imaginary cat? Maybe he should get a real one and wondered if he should mention it to you. ‘Bit coupley isn’t it, getting a cat? Get a cat so she thinks it’s cute and sees you with the cat and…you still won’t tell her you’re in love with her will you’ Luca told himself internally. He couldn’t stop picturing it though and noted it down as a maybe for the future idea.

****

“Tell Carmy about that Home Economics class you had!” Luca took a sip of his drink as the three of you sat at the table of the houseboat, sharing a few drinks one evening.

“Oh!” You perked up putting down your own as you sat up on your seat “this is so funny! We had this teacher, who set us task to bring in a a lunch you made at home, now I totally forgot because I had my French mock exam that morning…so of course I had to think fast so I didn’t get detention!”

You paused for dramatic effect. Luca biting back a laugh knowing what was coming. “Still can’t believe you got away with that.” He shook his head.

“I went to KFC on my lunch and got the strips and two sides, the corn and the salad, I spent the rest of my lunch, deconstructing it… if you will..” you gestured dramatically “so cutting up the chicken, peeling the skin off, eating some of it, shelling the corn with a blunt compass,” you emphasised, thinking your skill was impressive, “and mixing it into the salad and pretended I’d made a chicken salad.”

“She got a fucking A as well,” Luca commented as Carmy laughed at your ridiculous improvisation. “Don’t know how, but apparently Mrs Kennedy had never had a KFC before!”

“You might have if you weren’t skiving.” You raised your eyebrows. “Forever bunking this one” you pointed at him but you were smiling fondly as you did.

“Hey, You skived sometimes too. I remember you skived off PE to go to that game with me!” Luca joked back, playfully poking you in the side

“Yeah went all that way, sat with your fans and we lost”

Your pout drew a smile from Luca who knew you supported his teams rival, before you continued “and that goal was still not offside!” you emphasised.

Luca began to insist that it was, with a playful grin, knowing he was winding you up at how aggrieved you were over a game that was well over decade old.

Carmy forced a smile at the back and forth between you and Luca, taking another sip of his own drink, hoping the coolness would quell the feeling inside.

He hated it that it bothered him that you and Luca had all these shared memories, that the only time you ever bickered was over your rival teams and even then it was teasing, that Luca had known all these different versions of you, that he probably would always have that shared bond with you.

You and Luca were now bantering back and forth in a playful way that made his chest hurt so he stood up and made his way to the kitchen and began shuffling through the drawers until he found something wedged between two of them.

“What the hell is this ?” Carmy couldn’t help himself as he pulled out the cheese knife. There is no way this was one of Luca’s that he’d left when he’d lived on the boat, meaning it had to be…

“Oh my god my knife!” You perked up, abandoning your spot at the table “I’d wondered that was!”

Your cheese knife.

Your old, falling apart, slightly…okay very, blunt cheese knife.

Luca had tried on multiple occasions to persuade you to get a new one but you’d insisted you liked your old one and trusted it. Until it disappeared when you moved off the houseboat and you assumed you’d accidentally knocked it into the water or something.

“Not that knife” Luca groaned as his eyes shot over to the black handled knife Carmy held. “I was hoping you’d lost that for good” he grinned half jokingly “but it just keeps coming back”

“It’s a knife, Luca, not a haunted doll!” You laughed “I must have just left it here before we moved!”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if it was haunted.” It was his turn to pull a face, first at you then at Carmy.

“Hey I got this knife my first year of University and…” you attempted to protest

“Yeah I can tell..” Carmy spoke, giving you a pointed look. “It’s falling apart!”

“It never failed me.” You continued ignoring both of them at this point “when I wanted a late night block of cheese it was there…”

“You coulda got a professional one or anythin’ that’s not some cheap whole sale crap”

“Actually, it was from Ikea.”

The shared expression of horror between the two men was enough for you to crack up and concede, knowing you could not defend your knife to one chef, let alone two.

“Okay” you threw your hands up “Fine… but how about we leave it here, on this boat…to…”

“Fuckin’ mentally scar any chef that might be put up here in the future?” Carmy added with a laugh and was only met with a swift side eye from you, followed by a sly smirk suggesting you knew he and Luca had convinced you.

****

“What’s the note say?” Carmy asked nodding at a piece of paper glued to the front of Luca’s first Copenhagen notebook. He’d taken it out to read over some notes, prepare himself and prep.

He knew it was likely in Danish but it didn’t look like one of the common phrases he’d tried, to little avail, to practice. It looked a bit like your writing, but he couldn’t be sure.

Luca felt a flood of warmth at the chance to talk about it.

“So it’s this little tradition we do, she writes me these sentences in whatever language of the country we’re staying in. They’re usually like, ‘Well done’ or ‘you’re the best’ or something.” he enthused

“Oh.” Was all Carmy could manage at first. The jealousy sat in his stomach in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Carmy hated that he was jealous but he wanted you to write him cute notes, phrases he’d only half understand “Sounds…erm, sounds nice.” was all he managed before his throat went dry.

“What are you drawing anyway?” Luca nodded at the half open notebook. As his eyes flickered down to the paper, Carmy felt his stomach drop, the breeze had blown the pages past the passionfruite posset, past the wagu beef, past the shaded menu options and right to…

You

Carmy couldn’t cover it quickly enough.

Luca just looked from the paper, back to Carmy, back to you and could feel his heartbeat in his ears.

Course Carmy likes her too. And he’s better than you at everything. She’d pick him you know. Probably already has. Why did you introduce them? That would be tragic. Introducing the one woman you’re desperately in love with to her future man and never making the move yourself. Had her as your best friend, your roommate and still couldn’t tell her you wanted her. You’re a fucking idiot.

He said your name.

“You like her?” Loud enough for Carmy but not for you. Carmy didn’t answer but he didn’t close over his book. “You into her?”

After a moment, Luca sighed, and scratched his cheek and sat beside him, accepting Carmy’s silence as confirmation.

“Yeah, me too mate.” He said quietly before passing his friend a drink.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

COPENHAGEN

With Luca securing his dream job and you able to work remotely, you’d found a bigger place together in Copenhagen. The temporary houseboat to a small place to this bigger apartment now, with a large open plan kitchen and a walk in pantry for Luca to store whatever he might need when he brought work home with him. You didn’t mind as long as he let you taste it.

You’d won the coin toss and scored the room that overlooked the water. Luca hadn’t complained, you worked mostly from home so it made sense for you to have the room with a view and also he’d have conceded anyway, knowing it would make you happy.

****

As Luca entered the room, he saw you from behind, a pair of mid thigh cycle shorts on and a large oversized black t-shirt, getting something out of the fridge. It slowly dawned on him that you were wearing his t-shirt.

The t-shirt on him was tight over his broad shoulders, stopping on his hips but on you, it hung loose and ended about at the end of your thigh, owing to the big height difference between the two of you. Making it look like it was all you were wearing. He’d seen you in shorts before, of course he had but this felt different. It was his t-shirt over the shorts making his brain go haywire.

“Hey!” You turned and greeted him, smiling. “How was work? Did that 70th birthday go well?”

“You’re…you’re wearing my shirt.” was all he could manage before he felt his throat dry up. “Are you?”

‘Get a grip man what are you a fucking teenager’ he chastised himself internally. You’ve drawn attention to it, you could have just enjoyed the view a little while longer…’

“Oh shit sorry, yeah, I just, I got stuff down mine and the doorbell was ringing and yours was at the top of the clean laundry. I didn’t think it was appropriate to open the door in just my bra.” You put what you needed on the counter and moved back beginning to prepare whatever you were making. “Not the best first impression. He might have got the wrong idea…”

Luca just hummed a laugh and didn’t say anything as he tried to stop his brain wandering to you wearing his shirt in other scenarios and he had to shut his eyes. He brought his hand to his temple, and massaged, hoping he could conceal his brain betraying him as tiredness.

“It was the landlord.” You carried on “He said rents due on the 2nd, the utility room is on the 5th floor and he’d like you to get him a reservation, he likes rhubarb and pistachio sorbet” you began relaying the translation of the landlords message.

It was around a minute later he realised he hadn’t actually replied being too busy thinking about, walking over to you, lifting you onto the counter and kissing you hard, sliding down those shorts and having you just in his shirt.

“Luca? Luca, are you okay?” He snapped back to Earth realising you were looking at him “you kinda zoned out”

“Uh yeah, rent by the 5th, utilities on the 2nd” he repeats, waving his hand.

“Other way round, you dope” you laughed. “Come here and help me anyway” You wave him over to the kitchen. “I’m making something. Sorry to take work home with you but I need your expertise!”

“Branching out from the air fryer?” he raises an eyebrow and you laugh

“What! it’s quick!” You protested in defence.

He smiled in agreement “You got a point. Come on now what do you need help with?”

You nodded towards some peaches “Can you dice those whilst I fix this dough out?”

Luca agreed and began dicing but he couldn’t help his eyes, drift back you for a few moments every so often. He watched as you attempted to knead the dough but couldn’t quite get the pressure right and struggled to push down owing to the angles.

“No, like this. The angles better if you…” Luca put down the knife, peaches sliced and diced to perfection. “Here I’ll show you”

He moved around the counter and put an arm either side of you, his hands on top of yours, pressing yours moulding the dough, as you let him lead, relaxing. He began holding your hands with his so he could knead whilst showing you. He tried to resist the urge to press into you, to hold you tight against him.

“Like this, see” he said quietly and you nodded, watching his hands and yours under them as he moved effortlessly.

“Yes, chef” you jokingly quipped and Luca had to bite his lip to stop him dropping to your neck.

It wasn’t quite what he’d like to be doing right now but it settled something else for him. So much so that maybe it was even preferable. This almost quietly domestic, almost coupley activity.

When the dough was done, he reluctantly stepped back instantly missing the contact with you, as he watched you line the dish with the dough and peaches and slide it into the oven.

“Thanks Luca” you grinned at him.

“Anytime.” Was about all he could manage and he meant it, that two minutes set his stomach alight more than anything he could remember.

You ate it together on the small balcony later that evening and as you’d asked him how it felt to finally get everything he wanted; job as head pastry chef at a Michelin restaurant and beautiful place to call home in a gorgeous city. He had to hold himself back from saying

How can I have everything I want but I don’t have you. Not in the way I want you.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

NEW YORK

“How’s Eleven Madison Park.” You asked him. He’d started a few months ago and told you to come visit when you were next in New York. Of course you’d accepted.

The head chef hates me. And not just from a cooking point of view. He actively hates me. I throw up every day before work and usually have a panic attack in the walk-in at least twice a week, he gets weirdly personal, he thinks I’m shit, told me to die yesterday. Carmy thought but hesitated, reluctant to dump his stresses out there in the open incase you thought he was overreacting.

“It’s good, but erm, I mean it’s…a lot, the head chef he’s…”

“A dick?” You suggested recognising the ‘I hate my boss’ look on his face.

Carmy looked a little startled and then he let out a breathy laugh. “He’s one of the best chefs in the world…but yeah…he’s an ass…” he stopped

“What does he say to you?” You asked, carefully.

Carmy didn’t want to say it out loud, saying it out loud felt like it would give more weight to the words and some deep paranoid part of him worried you’d agree or even worse that you’d realise and think ‘he’s got a point, you are worthless and insecure and too slow and pathetic’

“Yknow…just always on me…” his voice was quiet.

He felt the twitch in his leg and ran a hand over his mouth biting on his knuckle for a few seconds, trying to distract himself but all he could hear was his voice in his head.

“Carmy?” You noticed the furrow in his brow and his leg bouncing and his hands against his mouth “You ‘kay?”

When he didn’t respond, you continued, concerned but careful. “Carmy, babe, can you look at me? That’s all I need you to do,”

It was a struggle as he rose his head, forced his eyes open and locked his wide eyed stare onto yours. You smiled gently and exhaled, gesturing for him to follow.

He did and you did this a few more times, talking him through breathing a few more times.

‘Well done fucko, she definitely thinks you’re crazy now’

But your expression didn’t suggest that at all. The opposite. Your look was one of understanding, of compassion and kindness.

“I find this helps.” You lifted your fingers to your own neck where it joined with your shoulder, the clavicle just below, you pressed down in a massaging motion.

“Can I touch you?” You ask and Carmen swore he short circuited but instead he just nodded and hoped it wasn’t too needy, too quick that he responded to you asking to touch him.

With his permission, you put your hand on him, a copy of your own. “Like this.” your hand was on his chest right over his clavicle, circling my gently “Focus on my voice”

You continued to talk to him until he held his heart rate calm and whispered out a ‘thank you’

“Glad I can help” Before you removed your hand from his chest, your fingers brushed the gold chain he always wore, you looped it out from under his shirt. “I like this.”

“Thank you.” He said again, trying to focus on the words and not the soft touch “had it since I can remember.”

“There’s another pressure point…” you said, and took his hand and gently pressed between his thumb and finger, “Just here….”

Your hand paused as the other side skirted his palm and you froze, turning it over and seeing a partially healed burn, still red and sore. “Ouch.”

“Occupational hazard” he said with a wry smile. “It’s fine now, was worse a few days ago” he hummed

“Lemme clean it properly for you. I see plenty of utensil related injuries. My best friend is a chef too, remember. Dont want you to make it worse…”

Of course, fucking Luca. Handsome and a nice guy. What a prick.

He was pretty silent as he you cleaned it for him then you’d insisted on a cream, tracing the cut gently once you’d done “There we go, good as new”

“I like you being here.” He squeezed your hand in a moment of bravery “it’s quieter”

A laugh escaped your lips “No ones ever thought of me as quiet but I’m glad I can help.” You gave him such a lovely, soft smile that he couldn’t help but fall in love with you again.

“I mean in my head.” He said with a laugh “you, uh, y’make it quiet in my head”

Its like you turn down the volume in my head and up the warm brightness, I love you. No one has ever been like this with me. I think I’d fall apart without you. I love you.

You squeezed his hand gently “I’m glad I can do that for you” and he could have sworn he felt it in his chest.

———————————————————————————

LUCA

COPENHAGEN

Luca was barely able to keep the grin off his face. He’d been working on a special dessert just for you, going in early, finishing late, all to perfect this.

The thinnest wafer with a soft caramel creme scooped over centre, topped with a milk chocolate dome. It was a fine dining version of a long since discontinued chocolate bar that you’d loved and he could hear you approach the restaurant kitchen in perfect time.

“Hey! You ready to take off? Film starts in half an hour?”

“Here…I…” He carefully lifted the lid from the plate. “I made something for you!”

“Oh my god this looks amazing!” You stared putting down your bag, as Luca prodded the pouring chocolate towards you. You picked it up and he watched your face completely light up as you poured to reveal the concoction under it.

“Wow…this is so cool!…wait…Is this…” Your eyes lit up when you clocked what had inspired the assembled plate in front of you. “No way! Luca, how did you do this?”

His hands ran through his waves a few times and he crossed muscular arms over his large chest.

“I made it.” He said as if it was a love confession “for you.”

“Oh my god. Okay, I’m going to need you to walk me through it!? This has to be my favourite thing you’ve ever made and I haven’t even tried it yet! What even made you think of this? this is so cool”

Luca grinned and it was the same wicked smile he used to give you when you were younger and he was up to something.

‘Because I love you and you miss it and you look for it in every food store in every country we go to. You think I don’t see you looking but I do. If they won’t bring it back and make you happy, I’ll bring it back for you. Sorry it took so long. I wanted it to be perfect because you’re perfect. I love you’

“You wanna know how I made it?”

Luca gave you that look. He loved it when you asked about his process, you always did but this, the chance to gush about how he created something for you? He could do this all day.

“Course I do!” You spooned a large amount into your mouth and couldn’t stop the sound that escaped your mouth. “Fuck, this is insane. It’s perfect, Luca, oh my god”

“So to get the wafers right, you have to make sure it’s smooth wheat flour, see.” he used a fork to point at the rippled wafer in the dessert, pointing out the waves he’d folded the wafer into. “And I had to match the water at exactly the right about, increase or decrease based on the soaking characteristics of the flour. Took me a couple of gos…to get it exactly like it used to be…first couple it was too dense, the consistency was all off, after that it wasn’t thick enough and would break when I tried to roll it.”

You were looking at him like you were interested as you helped yourself to more.

“And you’re going off memory? For the consistency?” It was impressive being that the bar had been discontinued for about ten years.

Luca nodded, spurred on by how impressed you sounded “yeah I remember them. Super soft, so thin, folded over but with space between each wave…have to do it perfectly or it breaks when you roll it. It’s got to be feather soft.”

“You are such a nerd.” You said, but your eyes were soft and you were smiling at him softly “Go on…” you prompted

He shot a glance up to see you watching as if you couldn’t take your eyes off him, hanging on every word, he often worried he was being a geek or boring when he did this but you looked so engaged.

Luca was grateful you followed that with “how did you make the rest” because if you hadn’t the ‘it’s no problem, I’d give you anything. I love you so much I created this because you miss it.’ was sitting at the back of his throat.’

“The creme caramel was a little bit trickier than your standard, see it’s not got the regular consistency, it’s more dense and it’s closer to a creme than actual caramel.” He took a small scoop with a teaspoon and smeared it across an edge of a plate so you could see it spread thinly, smooth and creamy. “It’s all in the texture. The chocolate is all about the tempering… I wanted the dome to reveal it perfectly no matter where you started your pour, so I made twenty batches and practised so the chocolate would melt and reveal like a curtain pull back rather than just caving in… hold on,”

He got up, left the table and came back with two batches of domes and demonstrated for you, showing you on how the remaining earlier batches, it caved in but on the newer batches the melt was almost like a gravity defying curtain pull up.

Engrossed you watched like it was a magic trick.

“Luca this is…one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.” You said softly “Thank you so much.”

“Does it taste like it did?” He asked the important question.

“You know.” You tapped the fork off the plate “Usually whenever they bring something back, it’s never as good. This…” you ate some more “is so incredible. It’s better. You are a genius! Who else can make desserts based on discontinued chocolate bars from memory alone! You’re so talented Luca, no one deserves this more than you.”

“I wouldn’t be where I am without you, you believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself”

“It’s easy to believe in you when you’re so clearly talented. Is this going on the menu?”

Luca nodded his head “It was meant to be just for you but I think I might…but I’ll still make it for you anytime you ever want it, maybe I’ll call it ‘The [Name]’,”

The smile you gave him was one he’d have given anything to see forever.

———————————————————————————

CARMY

NEW YORK

“Are you fucking kidding me? You think by the time the flight takes off and lands it’d be defrosted.”

You were staring at the departure board at JFK airport, your oversized luggage beside you as you drummed your fingers off the handle- DELAYED- AWAIT FURTHER ANNOUNCEMENT written next to your flight.

Carmy was all too aware of what the snow storm on both sides of the Atlantic meant as he stood beside you wondering if he thought it was wrong of him for hoping the snowstorm engulfing the airport was long lasting enough to ground your flight. He knew his own flight would be delayed too.

‘You’re a selfish mother fucker, wanting her flight grounded, She’ll easily go off and check into some fancy hotel and you’ll be alone and it’ll be what you deserve’

‘Attention all passengers- We regret to inform you flight DAT150846 to Copenhagen is cancelled. Please see our customer relations desk for further communications.’

“Fuck” you whistled and you started typing on your phone, no doubt sourcing alternatives.

“I mean I can get to Esbjerg from Newark but my flight won’t leave until tomorrow and there’s always the risk of the trains being cancelled so that’s one of a hell of an Uber. Which means I’ll get in…” you trailed off, as you attempted to work out the time difference.

‘Don’t go’ he wanted to say. He opened his mouth to say…something, anything but was cut off by the tannoy.

“Further announcement to all passengers travelling on the flight AA113717 to Chicago. This flight has now been cancelled. Please see our customer relations desk for more information.

“Shit that’s your flight, Carmy, they’re both cancelled” the second announcement interrupted your counting. You locked your phone as if it was his announcement and not yours that made your mind up and looked at him.

‘Good’ he thinks back to the Christmases of past, screaming, tension, arguments and yelling, hanging anxiety waiting for all of the above. The mental image of Donna, his mother, locked in her own car, which she’d plowed through the front of the family home a few years back, he thought of the Christmas he worked, where his executive chef chewed him out for…fuck knows, sitting there taking personal jibes after personal jibes, and thought ‘I’d rather spend it with you’

Subconsciously he straightens up, realising he probably should say something.

“It’s okay…I uh, don’t mind, Christmases my way can be…a lot” he shrugged and you understood.

Carmy had, in enough words for you to understand explained that his family, especially around Christmas, were in the most tactful wording; difficult. He didn’t mention them often, you knew he didn’t like taking about them but you knew enough to know it wasn’t usually a fun Christmas for him.

“This might be so weird, I know you’ve got your cousin in the city who you’re probably having dinner with but do you… maybe want to come to the air BnB I’m renting for Christmas. Not expecting you to cook off the clock, we can order in?”

“Michelle left a few days ago.” He said, referring to his cousin leaving for Chicago before the storm blew in, instead of ‘Yes, I’d love that. I’d rather be with you anyway’. Kicking himself internally, he took a breath “I mean…not that changes…” he brought his hand through his wavy hair before he took a breaths

“I’d like that. That sounds…great.”

****

You’d done the best you could, spending the dying hours of Christmas Eve decorating the Air BnB. Carmy had arrived early with a take out breakfast from a deli you loved and you’d spent the morning eating.

Wanting Carmy to open his present first, you passed it over and watched him unwrap it and the realisation slowly settle

“Is this?”

You nodded “Uh-huh.”

Carmy unpacked it from the wrapping and held it against himself. ‘We stopped for less than ten seconds’ he thought to himself as he unfolded the jacket.

“How did you know?” His blue eyes met yours, a curious expression on his face.

“I saw you looking. Remember a few months ago?” The way you said it is was as if it was obvious.

He’d never felt important enough for his sideways glances, one off comments and quick observations to be picked up on. For you to pick up on it…it made him feel special, loved even.

She does not love you, motherfucker. You’re delusional.

It was on one occasion when you’d wandered through the city together in fall. It was in the window of a vintage shop. He’d commented on it, off-hand, that he’d always liked a jacket like that. You’d tried to talk him in to going in and trying it on. It looked like it would be his size but he’d brushed it off in a ‘don’t matter’ type way.

“Yeah I went back that afternoon. Try it on! We can go for a Christmas walk later. Maybe in the park? I had it dry cleaned too”

Carmy didn’t say much for fear you’d think he was crazy or overreacting “Thank you”

You nodded “And I’ve ordered you a bookshelf, it’s only an Ikea one but your cook books are on the floor. Trust me, you’ll thank me.” you noted and suddenly Carmy felt himself relax again and laugh as he passed you over your present for fear he might actually cry from how lovely you were if things didn’t move on.

“Is this the soundtrack?”

You asked as you immediately unwrapped the vinyl, slid it out, squealing when you saw the limited run pressing. It was from one of your favourite 80s movies. “This is amazing, the pressing is beautiful! Thank you.”

“Yeah I watched it….Good movie. I, um, found it in a second hand store. figured you’d…like it.” He averted his eyes from yours, shyly. He left out that it was an online store and he’d spent four hours in an auction before just emailing the seller privately and telling him he’d double whatever the other guy was offering.

“You watched something else other than the cooking channel?” You joked in return, sensing he felt a little awkward about it and wanting to lighten the mood.

“Yeah well…” he looked down and back up, hands through his hair again. “I…wanted to do something nice cause…you’re always…you’re good to me”

Your eyes didn’t leave him for a second.

She’s just grateful. She’s just your friend.

“Nothing less than what you deserve…but thank you. Merry Christmas, Carmy” You leant in and kissed his cheek, only an inch or so from where he wished you’d kiss him.

After you finished your deli breakfast, you’d go for the promised walk in the park, and Carmy wondered if in some other universe, you were doing the same thing but hand in hand rather than side by side. You walked longer than you’d planned and he found himself talking more about that Christmas. Of course you were understanding, non-judgemental and Carmy opened up to you more than he’d ever opened up to anyone; about how he chased a culinary career after Mikey refused to let him work in the family restaurant, the constant panic attacks he had over the current restaurant he worked at and the retaining of three stars that the Head Chef had still found fault with him over and about how sometimes he missed Copenhagen and longed for those days on the houseboat with an imaginary cat and as he usually did with you, he felt lighter.

When you returned back, you collapsed onto the sofa, warm despite the cold air and gestured for him to sit with you

“Put it on one of those cooking shows and tell me how you’d make it better”

You tossed him the remote.

Without saying anything, he turned it on, sat beside you and listened to the sounds of the contestants completing a Christmas Dinner challenge filled the air.

To himself, Carmy wondered if this was the best Christmas he’d had in years, maybe in his adult life.

He knew the answer already.

———————————————————————————

BOTH

It had been several weeks since you’d seen either of them. Luca, he was now back in Copenhagen and Carmen had left for Chicago, having inherited his brothers restaurant, following his suicide.

God, Mikey.

You’d spent four days with Carmy in the immediate aftermath, mostly in silence, making sure he took care of himself. Occasionally he’d share something about Mikey which surprised him more than it surprised you. When it had come to it, you’d asked him if he wanted you to go to the funeral with him as support but he’d refused.

‘Don’t wanna put you through my fucking family’ he’d said. You knew it was an excuse but now was not the time to push.

He’d left for Chicago but told you three days later, he didn’t go in, expecting you to tell him he was pathetic, cruel even, but you’d asked why and then, as you always did, just listened.

****

You’d been in touch with them both over FaceTimes and texts like any other time but this felt different.

Carmy, you’d call when he was on random lunch breaks scattered through the day whenever he had the chance. By the time, his shift was over, he’d be too tired and collapse so you scheduled them as you could. You knew he was trying to work on his late brothers restaurant but knew it was shaping up to be a huge task. He’d been going to the Al-Anon meetings and had been trying but it was you who helped most even when you weren’t there.

He thought about you, when he was anxious about the restaurant, stressed about everything and when he couldn’t cope with thinking about how fucked it was that Mikey, who wouldn’t let him work in his restaurant, had fucking left it to him.

Carmy knew he had to tell you how he felt, maybe he could ask you to come out and tell you how he felt. He opened his phone, typed out a message to you and hit send and then promptly locked his phone in his locker and unsuccessfully tried not to think about it.

****

Luca you’d call at night. It reminded you of when you were both kids and you’d stay up late talking on the phone, whispering and giggling until your parents would tell you to get off the phone. You still made him laugh now as you’d relay some horrible mistranslation at work and try to make him guess what it said and what was meant.

God he missed you, every little thing about you. All he could think, despite having his dream job and living in a beautiful city was how he wanted you.

You were the one consistent relationship he had. Other people had come and gone but you’d been there since the beginning, seen him at his best, his worst and everything inbetween and he didn’t think he could have done it without you. He couldn’t lose you.

Luca unlocked his phone, wrote a message to you and clicked it shut before the read receipt could come up.

———————————————————————————

DECISION TIME

Messages (2)

Luca - “Please come back to Copenhagen, I’m going crazy. It’s not the same without you”

Carmy - “Hey, do you maybe wanna come out to Chicago again? Wanna see you soon?”

“That the two guys that are in love with you?” Your friend said “Right on time.”

You’d just been discussing your relationship with both of them and she’d been so insistent they were both in love with you. A part of you knew but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Let’s see your boyfriends.” Your friend pushed

“They’re not my boyfriends” You protested.

“Okay fine. Please let me see the two men competing for you.”

“Fucking hell, they’re not competing for me” Your eyes rolled, as you chucked your unlocked phone at her. “You make it sound like I’m… Bridget Jones or Bella Swan or something”

“I mean… you kinda are, honey.” she flicked through your phone finding a picture of Luca. “Wait. THATS Luca, your school friend Luca? When did that happen?“ She zoomed in “When did he get hot? -And tall! What is he now like…6’3”?”

“Of course it’s the same Luca.” You muttered. “You think I’ve been travelling about with some other Luca?”

“Show me the other guy!” She said excitedly and you rolled your eyes playfully, she was like a teenager sometimes.

“Three photos down”

“Holy shit, he’s got gorgeous eyes.” She noted looking at a photo you’d taken with Carmy ��imagine those big baby blues being hard to say no to…and nice biceps too… I bet he could bench press you.” She comments casually and nudges you. “Okay so they’re both hot, so my plan of go for the hot one is out of the question.” She cocked her head.

“That’s not helpful. I don’t know what to do, they’re both great, amazing guys.”

“Which one do you want to bang…” she looked at you “most. Like if you could only sleep with one of them, which one.”

“Really, again, not helpful.”you rolled your eyes and shoved her.

“Okay in all seriousness, put everything out of your mind,” she shushed you before you could protest. “You know who you want, its obvious, just admit it to yourself and go be with him”

You nodded. She was right. She always was

“I need you to drive me the airport.”

———————————————————————————

Choose: LUCA

Your friend grinned at you, as you tapped your card on the machine having bought a ticket on the next flight out and watched as the airport worker wrapped a luggage tag around yours, sending your suitcase off.

“I knew it.” She shook her head “I mean I’m one for a slow burn romance you know me. “But years?”

One of her eyebrows raised “I would say text me when you land but you’ll probably be too busy…” she sighed and gave you a loaded look “God, you’re so lucky…”

“Fuck off” you gave her a shove and then pulling her back for a hug you nodded. “I’ll text you in a few days.”

You sent a text to Luca- “I know, I miss you… you’ll see me soon.” and then a picture of your passport.

****

There he was waiting for you as you arrived. You hadn’t expected it but of course he had.

You couldn’t stop yourself from running over to him and he, without care that you were at the arrivals gate, in an international airport, wrapped his arms around you, leant down, tilted your head up and gave you a long, lingering kiss that was years of ‘I love yous’, years of kisses, years of yearning, years of shared jokes and memories and years of being just you and Luca wrapped up in one kiss.

He could feel his heart beating like it might explode at any minute. He’d resolved himself to just fucking kiss you the next time he saw you. Your response to his message plus how you’d ran to him had confirmed in that very moment that he had to. And here you were, kissing him back.

“I love you.” He said against your mouth, instead of a hello, words whispered so only you could hear them. “I love you. I should have told you sooner. I love you.”

You let go of your case, moving your hand to toy with the hair at the back of his neck, standing on tip-toes to close the gap in height.

“Hi…I love you” you whispered, laughing as he placed his forehead on yours “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Years, give or take,” Luca gave you an honest look that made you jokingly roll your eyes.

“I meant at the airport.”

He laughed. “Went it quick when I was trying to convince myself that I’d gotten the right idea from your text”

An eyebrow raise from you told him all he needed to know and he kissed you once again

“Definitely no wrong idea. Why do you think I got on the first flight out”

You said breathlessly against his lips before pulling him down for another kiss. His hair was ever so slightly longer, pushed back with a black hairband. He’d worn it like that the first time you’d gone to Chicago with him, he’d left the hairband in after a shift once and you’d commented on how much it suited him.

“I love you so much.” You said to him againz

Realising a large group of tourists had now begun to stare, you separated. Awkwardly he held up a hand and muttered something to them with a wave causing you to burst into laughter.

“Did you just say ‘Welcome to Copenhagen I hope you enjoy your stay’ to the nice group of tourists?”

“How did you know which flight I’d be on?” You said linking your fingers with Luca’s as he picked up your suitcase in the other arm and began walking. It felt so natural to be holding his hand after all this time.

“You always like the mid-morning flight. Remember I booked us on the six am to Venice and I thought you were going to push me out the plane”

You laughed so loudly the large group looked back around causing it to be your turn to hold your hand up in apology.

“Yeah I might have done if you weren’t carrying the passports. Now I think I’m ready for you to take me home” you leant into his side.

****

“Fucking hell.” You whispered half to him, half to yourself. “Luca, that was…”

Any worry about crossing that line was gone, it had been gone when he’d picked you up with one arm, as you entered the place you’d shared in Nyhavn. Mouths mashing together, his teeth pulling on your lip, a whisper ask of ‘are you sure’ as he slid his hand under your shirt, you answering him by sucking on his neck as he held you against him, your legs around his waist

The sudden romantic moment became funny when he’d paused in the hallway and asked “My room or yours?” but you’d never have it any other way.

Luca had been gentle at first, careful. Took his time with you. Laid you down and finished you off with his hands and his mouth, and you were back flat against the mattress, aching for him to fill you. So had reached up and cupped his face, locking your ankles at the base of his back and told him you needed him desperately, that you wouldn’t break. Luca had moaned into you at your encouragement which had only made you ache more. And after he’d let the years of want lead and take over, taking you hard and fast, giving you the best night you’d ever had and drawing another climax from you until you dropped back down on the bed back splayed and hips arched for him to finish deep inside you.

**

“I know. Been thinking about us doing that for a while now…You okay?” He linked your hand with his, without looking. He was still over you, caging you against him.

“You thought about that?” You gently played with his hair.

“All the time” he said casually. “Both that and this”

He was resting on your chest now, planting small kisses across your collarbone, gentle and loving. You felt yourself flush both at the casual sexiness of his statement followed by how sweetly he checked in.

“Luca, talking like that makes me want you again.”

Luca grinned with a sly look on his face “You can have me whenever you like.” He rubbed your hip and squeezed, a silent push to answer the ‘you okay?’

“I’m better than okay.” You ran a hand through his hair playing with the soft waves “are you?”

“Just got all I wanted.” Another kiss to your lips, slowly and sweetly. “I’m on cloud fucking nine”

“It was killing me.” He said quietly after a few moments, drawing patterns over your skin making goosebumps break out “…I know I had no right to be jealous, we weren’t together, I think to me, it felt like we were,”

A small sigh escaped his lips, the breath fluttering against your skin. He’d had a point. Looking back, it had sometimes felt like you were together.

“I saved the time difference in my phone and drove myself crazy when it was night over there…I convinced myself you two were…” he stopped.

“Luca, I promise you nothing ever happened, baby, he’s my friend…but you’re everything to me.”

He lifted his head up to look at you “Good” he said before kissing you on the lips, spare hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You’re the love of my life, you know,” he kissed you again “all this…wouldn’t be the same without you,”

“You’d still have made it…” you kissed him

“Maybe.” Luca kissed you again “but it wouldn’t be the same without you. You’ve seen me at my worst, at my best…and yet you’re still here” he whispered into your neck.

“Always gonna be here babe, it’s you and me,” you traced hands down over his chest.

“You’re the love of my life, darling. You always have been” Luca looked at you with a gaze so full of love it made your heart ache.

“And you mine” you pushed your hands into his hair and placed open mouth kisses against his mouth. “You’re so perfect Luca. So, so perfect”

*

The next morning toys wrote him a new message ‘Jeg elsker dig’ the day after which he stuck just above his work station. One you wish you’d written for him all those years ago. “I love you”

A part of you always knew you did. From when you were teenage best friends, to now, you loved him. Being with Luca now after all this time, was like finally seeing clearly.

You’d make up for all the lost time.

———————————————————————————

Choose: CARMY

You tapped to send a heart over the message Carmy had sent you, knowing he’d be eating himself up if you didn’t reply

“Miss you, Carm…I’ll see you soon I promise” You texted back, hoping he was working and it would be enough to stop him going crazy until you landed.

Your friend walked you to security and squeezed your hand. “I knew you liked him…every time you spoke about him, you got all…” she jokes “I’ve never seen you like that.” She said as she hugged you goodbye “Go get your man!”

****

You hadn’t told him you were coming, wanting to surprise him. He’d given you the address of the restaurant and now as you stood outside the door, you exhaled, taking a breath before you entered.

A pretty blonde woman smiled at you as you did

“Hi! I’m looking for Carmen Berzatto.” You said returning her polite smile

“Are you [Name?] I’m Natalie. I’m Carmy’s sister”

That surprised you “He mentioned me?”

“I got it out of him eventually. You know what he’s like” She then walked to the door leading to the kitchen and stuck her head through “Carmy. You’ve got a visitor”

“If it’s the butter delivery, jus’ sign for it, Sugar, ok?” He sounded frazzled despite it being only the morning.

“It’s not the butter delivery! It’s your girl.” She said clearly not in the mood for messing around.

There was all of a sudden a flurry of voices.

“A girl? For Carmy?” You heard a mans surprise.

“Is it the girl on his phone.” A woman asked

“Jeff’s got a girl?” another woman spoke.

“Let me see.” There was shuffling around and then another man spoke “How the fucks he done that?”

“Cousin, gimme the fuckin’ phone.” You couldn’t help but smile as you heard him, hearing him in person made your heart swell. “How’d you get my password”

“Your passwords 1111, Carmen.”

“I’d say it’s not always this chaotic…” Natalie started turning back to you “but it is.”

Before you could respond you were cut off him, your Carmy, emerging from the doorway. He looked so gorgeous.

Wavy hair that he’d clearly been running his hands through, big blue eyes, strong arms under one of those white shirts and little gold chain peeking out.

“Sugar- what is the…” Carmy stopped seeing you.

“Hi.” His face softened within a second of seeing you although the fear of rejection still lingered in his mind. Why were you here?

He turned back to shout into the kitchen “Alright…gimme, gimme like five minutes okay?” Carmy ushered his sister into the kitchen so you could speak freely

“Why didnt you call me? I’d have picked you up at the airport.” he ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry…I wanted to surprise you” you gave him a small smile “Carmy” you spoke as if you know exactly what’s on his mind “I want this…I wanna be with you, like properly be with you.” You paused “And I think you want that too”

Carmy could barely believe it, you in his restaurant, in his home city, surprising him and telling him you wanted to be with him? “Course I do.” He answered quickly “Fuck was I obvious?”

“Being that it took me this long to realise it, I don’t think so.”

“S’alright, I just feel like I’ve gone crazy” Carmen choked out a laugh, still overcome with emotion that you were here. “I thought…”

‘I thought by ‘see you soon’ you meant that in weeks or months from now, you’d visit. I thought you’d go to Luca, your gorgeous, tall, charming childhood friend in one of the most beautiful cities in the world who has it all together. Not me, the fucking colossal fuck up. Surely he’d be your first choice’

His hand ran through his hair again and came to rest over his lips, expecting you to say what was I thinking I’ve changed my mind, see ya.

You took his hand and let him link his fingers with yours, knowing he had a habit of fidgeting with his hands when he was nervous.

“Carmy, I’m serious, this is me choosing you. Over anything, anyone else”

“How the fuck do you do that.” He blinked “Sometimes I feel like…like you’re in my head, or somethin’”

He liked it, he didn’t feel like his heart was going beat out of his chest around you. He could actually breathe and think with you around. Seeing you, here, in his home city, with him…he felt at ease for once, all the worries, all the stress he carried around, felt lighter. It was like you, just by being you, could turn down the sound in his head.

“Cause I know you.” You smiled softly “And I wanna make you happy. You gonna let me make you happy babe?”

He didn’t know how to finish the sentence but with the reassurance, the knowing that you’d wanted him, that you’d chosen him, he felt a surge of confidence and he cupped your face with both hands before he dropped one to your waist holding you against him and the other moved back through your hair pulling your lips to his, connecting the two of you in a passionate, messy kiss. You could feel his taut muscles, toned and firm under his shirt and holding you tight to him easily.

He’d make his excuses and finish early. Richie absolutely revelled in making fun of him for leaving to go get some, telling him maybe it’ll make him less pissy and Sugar was just happy to see Carmy happy again, she’d worried about him but the moment he’d laid eyes on you was the first time she’d seen him smile in weeks.

****

“So fuckin’ amazing.” He said breathlessly, whispering kisses against your neck later that evening “didn’t hurt you did I?” He met your eyes instantly concerned.

“No baby, I loved it” you laughed a little, you were still straddling him, legs either side of him, catching your breath as you played with his wavy hair and planted little kisses on him. “You’re the amazing one, so good baby”

Carmy had barely been able to keep his hands off you since you arrived back at his.

He’d been straight over to you, kissing you, sliding his hands up under your shirt, like he thought you’d disappear or like he wanted to touch you as much as he could incase you changed your mind.

You’d returned his kisses with equal intensity, until you’d ended up in a tangle on the couch. both your shirts discarded and jeans half unbuttoned, with your hands half down each others, touching each other, taking turns drawing moans from the other.

“Just want you” you whispered against his ear. “Only you, Carmy”

You shifted up so had your legs either side of him straddling his waist, when you could feel him under your own heat, hard against you and ground your hips into him, telling him how much you needed him.

He couldn’t wait any longer and shuffled off his jeans and yours, pulling you down to straddle him. After a few more, rotations of your hips, you slid down on to him, biting his shoulder as he stretched you. You went slow at first, teasing him and savouring the sounds he made, with every rotation of your hips. After a few blissful moments, Carmy’s hands found your hips and after a careful look for approval from him, he began moving you up and down at a fast pace, drawing cries of pleasure from you until he came deep inside you after you’d reached your high.

****

“Don’t move yet.” He whispered quietly as if admitting the need for closeness with you would make you disappear, as his hands went to your hips, holding them flush against his own. Despite the firmness of the words, there was still some vulnerability there.

“I’m not going anywhere, you wanna stay like this we can stay like this,” you rubbed your hands over his broad shoulders, still unable to get over how toned his body is.

He rested his head on your shoulder, kissing at your collarbone. “I’m so fuckin’…” he paused and wondered if it was inappropriate to tell someone youre in love them in the immediate aftermath of sex. He wouldn’t know, you’re the first person he’s said it to but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m fuckin’ in love with you.” He said into your neck.

“Carmen.” You said, the use of his full name making his gaze shoot up to your eyes. For a second he wondered if he’d done something wrong. He was staring at you, those big blue eyes you loved so much, looking at you with pure love.

“Hey…it’s okay…” you kissed him softly, slowly, touching his face in the most tender way, thumb gracing over his cheekbone “I love you too.”

As he exhaled, dropping his forehead to yours, he was for the first time in a long time, not just content but happy.

[victorbutnotreally]

YOU WHAT??? - OT8 x Male Reader

Four times Mn surprised the members with his ~mysterious past~

A/N: Inspired by me constantly getting told that I "randomly drop lore". My friends didn't know that I played the piano until one day I saw a piano at my friend's place (her dad is a piano teacher) and I decided to play a nocturne. Hope you enjoy!

warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive, sometimes it may not make sense (but we're here to have fun), chan's room (rip), google translated french

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

One

"What is one thing you always carry around with you?"

That question was directed towards Mn. He snapped out of his trance of staring at Minho who was looking a little too pretty.

"Me? I always carry..." he pulls out a compass from his jean pocket. It was black and gold. "...this compass."

The members have seen a compass in Mn's pocket or in his bag while rummaging through it for snacks, but they didn't know he always had it.

"Why though?" was the question of a confused Jeongin.

"My neurophysiology professor gave it to me when I graduated. It means a lot to me since I didn't really receive a lot of gifts when I was younger. And he was such a good teacher."

The answer was met with gasps and widened eyes from the members. They didn't know their goofball of a member learned neuroscience. Hell, they didn't even know he went to university.

"WHAT?"

"PROFESSOR???"

"NEUROPHYSIOLOGY? THE FUCK??"

Two

Mn appeared as a special guest in Han's live. He was ranting about Achilles Come Down which was the song he recommended to be played on Chan's room last week. That's when he noticed a comment.

"Je vous aime tellement les gars ! Tu es honnêtement le meilleur et je ne peux pas te le dire assez"

He reads it out without a struggle and replies back in French.

"Merci beaucoup! Cela signifie beaucoup et j'espère que vous apprécierez également notre prochain album"

Han's eyes widened in surprise.

"Hold up, what?"

The comments started flooding in as well, completely thrown off by the sudden language change. No one knew he spoke French. They should've gotten used to the random lore dropping from Mn, though.

"OH MAH GAWDDDD"

"LORD HAVE MERCY THIS MAN CAN SPEAK FRENCH"

"i didn't know you spoke baguette!"

"just when i thought Mn couldn't get any hotter"

"get ready for the edits, y'all"

Jisung could only shake his head in disbelief.

Three

"Come on, hyung. I'm taking you back to the dorms and you're going to bed. Now."

"Just this one-"

"I slept more in university than you do now. And that's saying something, cuz I was busy!" He really was busy, with the neurology major, but that little smirk, the slight flush of his cheeks, and the bit of regret in saying that last statement was what made Chan raise a brow. There were a lot of times were Mn held his tongue when asked about ahem...experience.

"Yeah? What were you so busy with?"

"..My major, obviously. Now, get up."

Chan chuckled, getting up from his chair. "Nothing to smirk about in neurology, I'm sure."

"No one finds out about this, or I'll use my shooting skills on you."

"Your what now??"

Double lore drop. That's new.

Four

Mn was sitting with the rest of his members to react to his first solo song's MV. He wasn't exactly overjoyed by the idea, feeling awkward about seeing himself on screen. If it was a group MV, he could at least roast the others to get rid of the embarrassment of seeing whatever the directors told him to do on screen.

The screen fades in to a beautiful stage, an empty concert hall, occupied only by Mn who was painted with beautiful makeup and doing ballet. Gracefully, but the pain and insanity in his eyes is evident. Black Swan was the song.

"I...didn't know you did ballet."

Mn shrugged. His dance trainer knew, and honestly, he was glad the members found out this way. It was funny seeing their reactions.

[loventian]

Touchstarved character name meanings!

Lemme preface this by saying I’m not a name meanings expert I just love crawling through google pages and over analyzing things ALSO to make sure the results weren’t influenced by fandom everything here is from pre-2020! With that let’s get into things!

Mhin:

Mhin is a little bit tricky, as I can’t find anything for their name spelled as it is. Min, however, has several different sources and meanings.

In Chinese, Min (敏) meanings “quick, clever, sharp” Which seems rather fitting for our neighborhood soulless hunter. An alternative script for Min (民) translates to “people, citizens” which could have some interesting implications, as Mhin is implied to have strong connections to the city of Lovent.

In Burmese Min means “king, ruler” which, connected with the second Chinese translation, could perhaps be some foreshadowing? We don’t know how Mhin is connected to Lovent, but the city must have had a ruling class, perhaps Mhin held a position of power? It could also be why they survived, and which a powerful curse nonetheless

Finally, in Irish Min is said to mean “smooth, fine, small”, though I can’t find as many sources on this one. I include it because people have pointed out Mhin’s cloak pins are triquetra, which are Celtic symbols.

Kuras:

Please know I adore Kuras when I say this, but he really got the short end of the naming stick it seems. The most promising thing I can find is the usage as a Hindi surname, which doesn’t seem to have a meaning listed. If you remove the S and go with Kura, it can mean “river” in Turkish or possibly “fierceness, tiger” in Japanese.

Now here’s the silly translations! In Arabic, Kuras (كراس) seems to translate to brochure. In polish, it translates to chicken.

I truly doubt the devs thought brochure/chicken were good labels for the dear doctor, so I’m favoring the Turkish translation. Mostly because Eridia is a city divided by a river; could there be something deeper hidden in there? Maybe!

Ais:

So clearly Ais has a lot of Japanese influence, with his design being inspired by Oni, so I looked for those possible translations first. Ai (愛) translates to love in Japanese, and is typically used as a broader term to refer to emotions tied to like compassion, empathy, or platonic forms of love (as opposed to 恋/koi which refers to romantic love).

I’m gonna focus on this translation for a bit. Someone on a translation forum phrased it in a way I really love: “Ai” is something you do or give. Ais is our introduction to the Seaspring, and to groupminds in general. While the concept of a hivemind is usually used in horror as a way of taking away agency, the Seaspring is framed as a refuge for people to turn to. Could Ais’ name be an allusion to a goal he keeps hidden? Is the Seaspring a manifestation of a desire to give love despite the violent world? Or am I just reading into this too deep?

Vere:

Vere actually has a straight up name meaning! Most of the sources I found say that Vere is a French/Gaulish name meaning “Alder”, and it usually pops up in the surname “De Vere”. Alders are a kind of bitch tree, and I have no idea how that tie into Vere as a character.

But if we take “Vere” as a word rather then a name, then Latin translates it as meaning “truly, really, actually, rightly”. Vere’s introduction to us is as someone to not trust, a cunning fox waiting for the next meal, stealing our darn room key and lying about it! So I find it really interesting that his name could be a word for truth. Perhaps before his chains Vere was someone a lot more truthful ?

Leander:

Big shout out to Leander for having a plain ass easy to translate name. I’ll give you googles exact definition here: "lion of a man", from leon, "lion", and andros, "man".

That was easy, so now let’s pick it apart!

Traditionally, lions are symbols of nobility, courage, strength, and protection. Leander has a reputation for being That Guy; he’s a leader, a protector of the masses, etc etc. for all intents and purposes, Leander really is a lion of a man!

…On the surface at least. Because under all the symbolism, lions are still predators, no matter how noble.

[charlesswife]

Una Noche En Mónaco i

Vaya noche la de anoche. (What a night last night)

unem master list

pairing: charles leclerc x latina! reader

summary: after a one night stand between you and charles, charles continues on with his f1 career. until two months later, you come back claiming to be pregnant with his child.

warning: bad writing, charles is a bit of an asshole at first, is going to be a series. google translate because I do not speak french. teen pregnancy (very cliche, I know. I'm sorry)

a/n: this is based on the idea i posted yesterday, which you all seem to like a lot. i want to clarify that english isn't my first language so please be kind if you see any error, i am trying my best. Also I am very new to formula one, i am binge watching drive to survive and the races. also i hope the timeline is correct lmao. ALSO i am not very great at writing smut so don't expect to see smut until i get better at writing it. enjoy!

word count: 1,771

Just to clarify: If I'm not wrong. In 2018, Charles was 20, turning 21 in that year. Reader is going to have an age gap of two years. So reader is 18 turning 19.

gif is not mine! i love this gif tho, he looks so good.

March 2018

Everything from last night was a blur. I remember his green eyes on me. And then his lips. And then his skin. And then a bit more. 

The music was louder than my thoughts. Monaco is a beautiful country with even more beautiful people. 

Steph grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bar. "One Jack Daniel's with coke and one Cosmopolitan, please." She told the bartender. 

"Cosmopolitan?" I asked. 

"Oh girl, it's so good. It's vodka with cranberry juice, lemon juice, syrup, and..." She stopped for a second while her eyes drifted to something behind me. "Oh god, he's cute." I was going to turn around and look until she stopped me. "Wait, don't turn yet!"

By that time, the bartender put our drinks in front of us. I thanked him. "Girl, he's looking at you."

"Is he your kind of cute or mine?" 

"I would do it sober, on a Monday." Okay. I have to turn around and see said man. "If he wants anything, he'll come to us." She dragged me to another part of the bar. 

We danced and drank, and slowly I was forgetting about the 'gorgeous' man. I checked my phone. 12:00. 

It has been two hours since we got to the bar. 

When the song ended, we headed to the bar area, I asked the bartender for another drink. "Wait here, I have to run to the bathroom," Steph yelled in my ear and then made a beeline to the bathroom. I took the scenery in. The music was louder than before and everyone was dancing to a song I don't know of. 

The bartender put the drink in front of me, and I thanked him again. I lost count of how many times I have thanked him. 

"This is your fourth drink, is it not?" I heard a male voice next to me. I turned to see the owner of the voice. 

Green eyes. Dimpled smile. His body leaned to mine. 

"You're keeping tabs on me?" I asked.

"Hard not to," he said. He turned to the bartender and said, "Fermer la onglet. apporte-elle de l'eau. Je paierai la facture." (Close the tab, and bring her some water. I will pay for her bill.) The bartender nodded. The man turned to me again. 

"What did you tell him?" I'm not even going to lie. His accent was very sexy. 

"Nothing much. C'mon. Let's dance." he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dance floor. 

He pulled me close to his body. Very close. His green eyes and hands were all over me. And I let him.

He leaned closer to my ear and said, "So are you going to tell me your name or will I only know as the beautiful foreign girl?" 

"You think I'm beautiful?" I asked laughing a bit. 

"Everybody in this room thinks you are beautiful," he smiled, "So?" 

"y/n," I told him. He repeated my name again, trying to see how my name feels on his lips. "And you?" I asked him. 

"Charles" I repeated his name and his smile got wider. Deepening his dimples. "Leclerc" 

Somewhere in the room, a phone rang. I was entangled with Charles that I just let it ring. His face is so calm, without worries. 

"I can feel you staring at me, mon cherie," he murmured. "do you always stare at people when you wake up?"

"Not always," I said. "you're the only exception." He smiled at my comment and opened his eyes. 

"Hello" 

"Hi," I whispered. 

"Was that your phone or mine?" He asked. 

"I don't know. If it's important, they'll ring again." As soon as the words left my mouth. The phone rang again. I let out a little whine that made Charles laugh. 

"That's your phone, that's not my ringtone." I got out of bed and looked for the phone. 

"I can feel you staring at me, mon cherie" I mocked him. 

"A sight like you should be stared at all the time." I smiled at his comment. I found my phone in between the pile of clothes that was left on the floor. Steph &lt;3 appeared on my screen.

I lay on the bed again with Charles and answered the phone. 

"Hey bitch, I've been calling you all morning" 

"Sorry" I answered "I just woke up" 

"Are you still with the French boy?" Steph asked with a joking tone. I can't remember most of last night. But she knows about Charles and the fact he speaks French.

"I'm Monegasque," He said a bit loud, just for her to hear. 

"He says he's Monegasque" I repeated. 

"Uhhh, native. I like it. Well, text me when you're on your way back" With that, she hangs up. I looked back at Charles. 

"So, another round?" 

At first, Steph was excited for me. She was hoping for Charles to be the next thing to occupy my mind instead of my parents.

She wasn't wrong. The Monegasque lived in my mind rent-free for the past month. Especially after I found out I was pregnant. 

Two pink lines.

Positive. 

"So? What does it say?" Steph asked. I didn't say anything. Tears started to form in my eyes. "Oh god, I need a drink" She disappeared from the bathroom to the kitchen. 

Steph made me take a pregnancy test after several different random cravings that I had. She had enough of me after I ate a burger with extra extra pickles, and then more pickles on the side. For context, I hate pickles, with my life. 

Fuck. 

"y/n... what are you gonna do?" I haven't realized that she came back into the room, a glass of wine in her hand. 

"well... what's done it's done. it's my responsibility to take care so it." I answered. 

"Yeah! But so it's his! He has to be responsible too!" she yelled. 

I let the tears run down my face. "And how?! I don't have his number! It's not like I could just send him a text saying 'Hey! remember when we fucked a month ago? well, I'm pregnant now, congrats! be responsible and take care of it" 

Steph stayed quiet for a moment, just staring at me. After a while, she said, "Do you think he is on Instagram? I mean, think about it, almost everyone is on Instagram." she waved her wine at me. 

"And if he's not?" my voice broke for a moment. This is all too much for me. I am overwhelmed and drowning in my own feelings. 

"We can only hope so." She put her wine on top of the dresser and reached for her back pocket for her phone. "What was his name again?" 

"Charles," I said. 

"Love, I'm going to need more than that"

"Umm... His last name was a hard one. It was Lec... Lec-something"

For a moment, she looked at me and then back at her phone. "Leclerc?" She asked, doubt very clear in her voice.

"Yes! Leclerc. Why? Did you find him? You should get a job in the FBI" I commented while fidgeting with my hands. I was very nervous. 

"Is it him?" She turned her phone towards me. The first thing I see was a black and white picture of Charles sitting on top of a counter with an Alfa Romeo jacket. The date was March 4, 2018. Just a few days before we met. 

"Yes," I confirmed, "Wow, you are better than a PI" She slide her finger up a little and I looked at the username. Charles_leclerc with a verified check. "He's verified? Why is he verified?" I felt my heart going eighty miles per hour. 

"You fucked and got pregnant by a Formula One driver," Steph said, in a monotone voice. 

Oh fuck. 

"What do I do now?" I asked her as I made my way to my bed to sit down. 

"Well, you know who he is now. You just gotta find a way to find him and tell him." She said as she sat down and wrapped her arms around me. 

Yeah. Right. Like that's going to be easy. 

May 2018 

"When will the phase of puking stops when pregnant?" I asked Steph as I rubbed my small bump. 

"You're asking the wrong person. I am not Google" She replied. 

"You would be more awesome if you were Google" I joked as I sat at the dinner table.

The aroma of pho and fried dumplings is drugging me right now. Steph is a great chef. So am I, but I hate washing dishes. 

I am glad I have Steph to take care of me. Steph has been my best friend for the longest, she's a year older than me, but she treats me and takes care of me as if I'm her daughter. She was there for me when my parents died. She dropped everything and came with me across the world. And now she's taking care of me while being pregnant. I truly don't know what I would do without her. 

Steph served me chicken pho and eight delicious fried pork dumplings. I waited for her to sit down. 

She glanced at me for a second and then smiled. "You look like a child, waiting for permission to eat." 

I laughed. "Well, I'm sorry I waited for you," I said as I grabbed the spoon and put some of the broth in it, and then took it to my mouth. It is so savory. "This is so good" I grabbed the chopsticks and grabbed a dumpling. I blow a bit into it so I don't burn myself. I took a big bite. "Oh my gosh, this is the best dumpling." 

"You know what's better than a fried dumpling?" she asked while she wiggled her eyebrows. 

"A soup dumpling!" I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, I heard a ting! coming from my phone. I thought my phone was in silence. We both laughed a bit at the timing and sound of the phone. 

I turned my phone, immediately illuminating from the raise to wake mode. My smile dropped. 

+377 123 456 7890 

Hey, this is Charles. I'm in Monaco for a few weeks, mon cherie. Do you want to meet? 😉

I slammed my phone back to the table and looked at Steph. "What?" she asked. I looked back at my phone, making sure it wasn't a hallucination in my head. The text message was still there. 

With shaken hands, I hand her my phone while I eat the other portion of the dumpling. She looked at the text, then at me. "Oh fuck..."

Oh fuck indeed. 

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

Ahhhhhh!!!!! This is the first chapter of many more to come! Please let me know what you think of it. I would very much appreciate any type of comment, whether it is your opinion or just anything! It would def motive me more to keep going.

@mac-daddy-210 @infinite-wanders @rbrsavage @itsyogurlkel @bbygrlllllll @nerdreader @imnotcryingyouare1 @killerangel88 @obx-mylove-things-blog @triorion @daniellarogers @insssanemindd @bosinclairsgff

[monzabee]

how you get the girl – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and your boyfriend Charles attend a gala for a friend and run into Harry Styles – who happens to be your ex. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of a past break-up, jealousy, possessive charles, angst? (only if you squint, or maybe not I don’t know), charles being charles, google translate French, anger?

Request: “Can I request a Charles fanfic with angst? Maybe famous singer reader used to date someone really famous like Harry styles and they run into Harry and Charles is really jealous and acting up/mad?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this is my first time writing a fic, so all feedback is welcome and appreciated. i liked the idea that the anon named harry so i used him, but also i had to include taylor swift some way because she is the literal best. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You sigh, fixing the way the neckline of your dress looks and meeting the eyes of your boyfriend through the mirror. “I know you’d rather be relaxing tonight than entertaining people.” 

Charles smiles softly as he keeps his eyes focused on yours, the green in his eyes shining just a little bit brighter due to the afternoon sun shining through the hotel room window. He abandons his place on the edge of the bed and comes closer to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Are you trying to convince me to stay back, or convince yourself, chérie?”

His question brings a mischievous smile on your lips and you shrug your shoulders with faux innocence as you lean your head back on the Monegasque’s shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, chéri.” Your use of the pet name he taught you when the two of you first went on a date makes him let out a laugh – well, you don’t know if it is because of your use or your pronunciation or your use of the word in general, but you’re hoping for the latter. 

“Well, I think you are.” He takes your hand in his and slowly moves you from your place in front of the mirror. “And it’s not going to work, because you—”

“Promised Helen we’d be there. I know, I know.” You huff, shaking out of his grasp and fixing his bowtie with a small frown on your face as you mumble, “I thought you F1 drivers would be into breaking the rules, but no, I had to find the only decent one.” 

Charles chuckles as he places his hands back onto your waist as you continue your mission with a relentless sense of seriousness. “Aw, you think I’m decent?” 

An urgency to smile snakes up onto your lips because of his question but you try to refrain yourself from doing so by twisting your lip, “Shut up, Charles.” 

“I think you’re decent as well,” he takes a moment to think with an exaggerated expression, “pretty, too.” 

You smile at your handiwork as you pat his bowtie twice and place your hands on the sides of your hips. “Is this your way of saying I look nice?”

He shakes his head and starts walking you towards the door, picking up your coat and bag, and ignoring your protests along the way. “But, yes of course. However, we need to go right now if you don’t want to make Helen angry at you for being late.” 

“At me?” You ask, confused. 

Charles laughs. “Well, yes, chérie. She loves me too much to get mad at me. You’ll have fun once we go inside.” 

By the time the two of you arrive at the gala, Charles has managed to uplift your mood (mostly by promising you pizza and sweets after the two of your leave the event). When you get to Royal Albert Hall, Helen welcomes you with a big smile and open arms. The three of you decide to grab drinks together at the bar and talk about the event, your latest recording deal, Charles’ upcoming season, and Helen’s new client who is a “twat-waffle in skinny jeans, but don’t worry about me, honey, I’ve seen worse.” She leaves the two of you to welcome newcomers, who are probably looking at her to congratulate her on the event. You place your glass on the bar and turn to face Charles, who is looking at you with a small smirk on his face. 

You sigh exaggeratedly and tilt your head to the side. “Fine, you were right, this is fun.” 

He matches your sigh, although with a lighter tone to it. “I know, I love being right.” He quickly finishes the rest of his drink and gets up from his place to offer you his hand. “Now, chérie, allons-nous danser?” Shall we dance? You nod your head, giggling as you take his hand and allow him to pull you onto the dance floor. With the alcohol coursing through your veins, you think this might be the perfect night. 

You and Charles dance through what feels like a hundred songs, but in reality, you lose the count after the third slow-paced song because the DJ decides he’s had enough of the slow songs for the evening and moves onto the fast-paced ones. Both of you jump up and down to the rhythm of the music as best as you can in your choice of heels for the evening, and Charles is there with you to do the same. He nudges your shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows when the DJ decides to play one of your recent songs, not shy to let the people around you know that it is your song. “That’s my girlfriend’s song!” he says, “Yes! It’s the new one!” 

After the previous song finishes, the two of you decide to retire for a bit, walking out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. You turn to Charles when you hear him chuckling and find him shaking his head. “Hey, what are you laughing at?” 

“You look like a tomato, mon amour.” He’s quick to add, “A very cute one at that.” 

You let out a shocked gasp, swatting lightly at his chest to cease his laughs. “It’s not funny! I never make fun of you after your races, even if you do look like a tomato.” 

“That is not true, and you know it.” His laughter continues, making you join him and soon after both of you are laughing uncontrollably; with you leaning against the railing of the balcony and him with his arms placed on either side of you to cage you in. After your laughter dies down, leaving you both in heaving breaths in to calm yourselves, he shrugs off his jacket and gently places it onto your shoulders. 

You gaze up at him, softly smiling through your lashes. “Thank you, my love.”  

You press your lips against the corner of his mouth, but he is quick to capture your lips in his, and his eyes are the last thing before you close yours as he starts kissing you. His hands quickly start moving and he drags them up your body to cradle your face between his hands as he deepens the kiss. You let out an involuntary whimper, in which he responds by gently tugging at your lower lip. In an attempt to bring him closer, you slip your fingers through the belt loops of his dress pants, which thankfully is not occupied by a belt. Charles’ response is to bring your face even closer as he keeps kissing you. The two of you don’t realise the sound of footsteps coming from behind you. 

“Oh, God, sorry.” A voice interrupts, and you quickly separate from each other, albeit a little bit unwillingly. You inhale deeply to regulate your irregular breathing, and let out a gasp as your eyes fall onto the intruder. Just as you are about to open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I can’t believe it, hi Y/N, it’s been ages!” 

Although Charles’ eyebrows furrow, he keeps his gaze focused on you only to turn around to face the intruder once you say, “Hi, Harry, it’s been a while!” He gives him a once over, keeping his hands on your waist as the two of you talk about the lost time. And yes, while Charles can be a jealous man – just like any other guy in a relationship who is as besotted with their partner as he is with you – he never considers himself to be possessive. He even likes Harry’s music, he mostly encounters the songs at the paddock before a race or after while doing media stuff, but he doesn’t have any issues regarding his music or him in general just because he is dating you because he is secure in your relationship to know just how much you love and respect him and the same goes for you. But standing there with you leaning against him while talking to your ex-boyfriend, yes he know he is your ex-boyfriend like the rest of the world thanks to your very public break-up, he just wants to take you away from there any to anywhere where the two of you can be alone. 

You leap off the railing you were leaning against when you feel Charles’ hands tightening on your waist and move one of your hands to cover his as you give him a slight squeeze. “This is Charles, my boyfriend.” 

He watches as you give him a polite smile and attempts to do the same, but it reality his probably comes-off as a strained one. Harry offers him a handshake as he smiles at him, “Hello, nice to meet you.” And then, he watches as the Brit turns his attention once against to you. 

“We missed you at the awards this season, you didn’t attend any of them!” Harry chuckles, shaking his head a little. 

You shrug and answer him with the same polite smile on your face. “Well, you know me, never been fan of the award shows in the first place.” 

Charles knows this, of course he does, because whenever someone starts to ask you about award season in the first place, you let them know that the awards are not the reason you write songs in the first place – the fans are. He tunes most of your conversation out as his insecurities take over his thoughts, he thinks it is funny in a way because your relationship might be the only one where he has felt like he could be himself without worrying about what you might think. Just as he is about the calm his fears by the logical side of his brain reasoning and telling him that he should probably stop acting like a fool, he hears Harry asking you about a song on your album which makes him throw all the rationality he has out the metaphorical window. 

“I-uh, I listened to your new album, it was very good.” Harry says. 

A wide smile finds a place on your face. “Oh, thank you, Harry! It’s nice to hear that.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I liked that one song the most, what’s it called, How You Get the Girl?” He thinks quietly for a split second. “Oh whatever – it was very good. But tell me the truth, was it or was it not about me?” 

“Sorry, can’t tell you that, it’s a secret.” You laugh. And he laughs. And Charles only watches the scene before him without being able to say anything because he is swarmed by all the thoughts he tried so hard pushing out of his head coming back. You must’ve notice his drastic change in mood because you excuse the two of you saying that you’re feeling a little bit cold.

“Oh sure, it was nice seeing you again.” Harry smiles at you, and then addresses Charles, “It was also nice meeting you, Charles. Take care of my girl, eh?” 

“You too, Henry.” Charles replies, without filtering his response in his head and hangs his head low to avoid any awkwardness. 

You wait until the Brit leaves the balcony and then focus on the man in front of you, “Charles–” you start, but he cuts you off with a low voice. 

“Can we just go home?” He inhales deeply. “Please.”  

Needless to say, the car ride home is quiet and tense. Charles acts like he doesn’t care, but you know deep inside that he is bothered by what happened and is probably overthinking the entire situation. The one thing you are grateful for is the fact that you didn’t drive to the venue but instead opted for a car service, thinking that you’d both be drunk by the time event ended. However in reality, neither of you are drunk and you are fairly sure Helen is going to send you a very angry text the next morning because you left early. When the driver announces that you’ve arrived at the hotel, Charles thanks him before exiting the car and you do the same before you lean over to open your door, but Charles is quicker than you and he does it for you. 

He is quiet the entire way up to your hotel room, but he has an arm around you and you place your hand right on top of his in an attempt to sooth whatever negative emotions he is feeling at the moment. He is also quiet when you get to your room, and he helps you pull off your coat and his jacket underneath the coat. He smiles for a split second, seeing his oversized jacket on your frame, but the seriousness returns as he helps you out of it. 

“Charles,” you say his name, “please talk to me.” 

“I’m okay, chérie.” He sighs and places a small kiss to you forehead. “I’m going to take a shower before bed, okay?” He leaves before giving you an opportunity to speak, and you are left behind, thinking about the last time he called you that pet name a few hours ago, and how he was smiling.

Instead of pushing him to talk about his feelings you decide to let him cool down, hoping that he would be more open to having a conversation about what happened after his shower. So, you take of your shoes and your dress – although you struggle to find the zipper for a while – and you take of your make up on the small vanity the hotel provided for you after you put on your pyjamas for the night. By the time Charles is out of his shower, you are waiting for him sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers. 

“I thought you’d be sleeping by now.” He mumbles, weaving his hands through his wet hair. 

You can’t help the small frown etching on your face. “We never go to bed angry at each other.” 

You can see the change in his eyes, but even though his eyes soften at the sight of you, his tone is firm when he tells you, “I’m not angry at you, Y/N.” 

“See, I find it hard to believe that right about now.” You mumble, your eyes falling on your lap for a second. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just go to sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“What? Why?” You ask, your voice wavering at the last syllable. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m just going to go over some statistics in the living room.” He doesn’t look at you, or let you protest. He picks up his computer from the abandoned backpack in the corner of the room and presses another light kiss to your forehead before going into the living room to try to get rid of the anger by working it off. 

And thus, you try to go to sleep – mainly because you know just how stubborn Charles is. His mother always tells you stories about when he was a kid and refused to go to bed in his pyjamas because he didn’t want to take off his karting suit. But you see how much he’s stubborn every single day, when he makes you get out of bed in crack-dawn of the day because you told him you wanted to start exercising with a “no, mon amour, you said you wanted to start running!”, or when he makes you eat your vegetables because “you can’t live off of chicken nuggets for the rest of your life, you’re in your twenties!”. But most importantly, you see how stubborn he is every time he pushes himself to be better; a better man, a better son, a better driver and even a better boyfriend. So, it breaks your heart to think that he is outside the doors of the bedroom, alone and contemplating things he shouldn’t have to because he knows just how much you love him. So, you get out of the bed, which isn’t very hard in the first place because it feels too empty and cold without Charles in it, and you march your way through the bedroom doors and into the living room where a certain green-eyed Monegasque driver is hunched over his computer in the low light. 

He looks up and his eyes go wide when he spots you, sleep evident in your eyes and there is a permanent pout on your lips. There is a silent communication between the two of you as he pushes his chair slight off the table for you to place yourself on his lap and consequently wrapping yourself around his sitting figure. 

“Chérie, you should be sleeping, it’s late.” He speaks in a low voice, encouraging you to go to sleep, but you know him well enough to read between the lines. 

Your voice comes of muffled because you cuddle against the side of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep because someone refuses to talk about his feelings and made me become accustomed to his cuddles over the past year and a half.” 

“Mon amour,” he sighs, “I am fine, you don’t have to worry about me. Okay?” 

There isn’t any emotional strain in his voice, unlike before, but you still don’t like the fact that he refuses to acknowledge his feelings. So instead of pushing, you pick your head up again and focus on his green eyes, “You called me by my name, and you never call me by my name unless I’ve done something wrong.” 

“That’s not true.” His voice comes off as a whisper this time. 

“It is and you know it.” You untangle one of your arms from around his neck to cradle his jaw and let your finger wander around. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong so that I can fix it.” You think for a moment. “S'il vous plait.” Please. 

Charles lets out a frustrated breath and tightens his arms around your frame – involuntarily, or maybe not, but who cares, really? “It’s mine,” He grumbles. 

“What is?” You ask, tilting your head with genuine curiosity. 

“The song.” Now it is Charles’ turn to pout. “It’s my song, you wrote it for me. I was there when you recorded it and you told me so.” 

“Oh, Charles.” You coo, bringing your other hand up to his face and gently caressing his face as you straighten yourself up on his lap. “It is about you, my love, he was just joking.” 

You let out a chuckle as you hear him mumble, “Well, it wasn’t funny to me.” 

“Is this about more than the song?” You ask, continuing the movement of your hands. You smile as he lets out a dissenting mumble, “Good, because I would hate it if you thought I have eyes for anyone other than you.” 

“You would?” He mumbles, leaning into your touch. 

“Oh yes, I would be very upset.” You nod, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. “And Charles?” You ask. 

“Yes, chérie?” He asks right back, his eyes not leaving yours even for a moment. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” 

“It’s not your fault,” His eyes become serious for a second again, but they soften at the sight of you quickly. “Don’t blame yourself, chérie.” He mumbles as he kisses you softly on your lips. “Okay?”

“But still,” You mumble, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” 

He sighs, but it is not a sad sigh like before. Which makes you think it is an improvement. “I’m sorry I can’t write songs about you.”

“What?” You ask, voice shaky. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not– I can’t put my feelings into words that way.” His hands occupy themselves with the string of your pyjama pants. 

“I don’t need you to write me songs, Charles, and I don’t want you to change.” You press soft kisses around his face, making him smile involuntarily. “I love you just the way you are, you stubborn stubborn man.” You thing he’s about to say something, but can’t finish your train of thought because suddenly you’re being lifted off the chair and you’re in the air. You let out a shriek, “What are you doing?” 

“Taking you to bed,” Charles replies, and rolls his eyes as your expression changes. “To sleep,” he emphasises the second word, “méchante fille” naughty girl. You laugh as he puts you back on your side of the and tucks you in before turning off the lights and getting into the bed himself. He is quick to pull you towards his arms and cuddle you under his weight, which you’ve become accustomed to and helps you sleep better. “Go to sleep, mon amour.” He kisses you on your forehead again. 

“Charles?” You ask into the night, and continue once he lets out an affirmative hum. “Je t'aime.” I love you.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon amour.” I love you too, my love. You hear him say as you’re falling to sleep. “Tu es l'amour de ma vie.” You’re the love of my life.

[sinofwriting]

Causing Problems - Max Verstappen

Words: 2,365 Summary: After learning about his girlfriends first time, it’s safe to say that Max is not happy. Note(s)/Warnings: Leclerc!Reader, Talks of Sex/Losing Virginity. Mentions/Talks of Underage Sex. Past Pierre/Reader. Also there is french here, didn’t use google translate, but still used a translator, so sorry if any of it’s wrong.

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“Don’t judge me.” His brows raise and he can’t help but smile. “What could I ever judge?” She shoots him a disbelieving look, but sighs. “I was fourteen.” His eyes widened. “See judge!” He shakes his head, “no, no. No judgment, just,” he pauses unsure how to phrase it. “Lorenzo and Charles let you have a boyfriend at fourteen?” She snorts, ten years had passed and the two and now Arthur wrinkled their nose at the idea of her with a boy. They were somewhat fond of her and Max together. “No, I,” she pauses, feeling herself get a little flustered as she thinks about who and how she lost her virginity.

“It was a friend.” Her voice is a little fond, but she squeezes Max’s hand letting him know it’s not the person she’s fond of but rather just the memory. Her eyes flicker upwards to meet the Dutch’s eyes. Seeing how warm they are and his earnest nod to continue, she does.

“We were in France for a race.” She squeezes his hand again, “you won that one.” She tells him, smiling at his eyes crinkling at her pause. “We decided to stay with his family for the night instead of at the racetrack or just driving home. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go down to the basement, hoping to wear myself out by uh,” she pauses trying to think of the word in English. “Pacing?” He offers, having seen her do it a few times. She nods, smiling wide. “Yes, pacing. But when I got there, he was also there unable to sleep. We talked for a bit and then things got a bit tense and we ended up having sex.” She shrugs, with a little laugh. “It was a little odd since we both hadn’t done it before. But it was good.” “Did you orgasm?” He can’t help but ask. “Surprisingly, yes.” A flare of jealousy hits him at the knowledge that some fourteen year old kid got a girl off his first time having sex, while he didn’t when he was eighteen. But it leaves just as quickly as it came, shock replacing it with her next words. “But after all the French are known for being generous lovers and Pierre is quite French, no?” She laughs. “Pierre?” He asks, brain struggling to comprehend what she said. “Yes, Pierre.”

The confirmation makes him a blink and god he can’t believe the balls on the French driver. Charles was insanely overprotective. Then again, if Charles had any idea what his best friend and little sister had done he wouldn’t be alive but at the bottom of the river.

Then a thought strikes him, Pierre and her weren’t not the same age. A fourteen year old virgin didn’t make her cum but rather a seventeen year old one and suddenly anger is boiling in his stomach.

“He was seventeen.” His voice is surprisingly blank. “Yes, Pierre is three years older than me.” She looks at him, worryingly. “Max, are you okay?”

—

“Gasly!” The frenchman’s head jerks to the left at the sound of his last name in such anger. He stares wide eyed at the dutch driver. His jaw was twitching, face red, and fists clenched. He had only seen Max this angry a couple of times before but never was it directed at him. “Max.” He ends up saying, eyes flickering around the room. Hoping that Charles, Daniel, Lando, Alex, or George know what’s going on, but they all look just as confused. His eyes catch on Y/N, who's looking at Max with wide eyes of her own. “Fourteen.” The word is gritted out and Pierre’s eyes are back on him, more confusion filling him. “What?”

He couldn’t think of anything that would make Max this mad involving the number fourteen. Lap fourteen had been fine this race. They hadn’t yet gotten to race fourteen of the season. It couldn’t be the year 2014, they didn’t have any contact that year.

“Fourteen.” Max repeats, putting a weird emphasis on the word as it comes out quieter than before. Pierre’s eyes flicker to the only girl in the room, hoping she’ll know what it’s about and when his eyes move to look at her it hits him and his eyes are moving back to Max. Understanding him. “Oh, fourteen.” “Yes,” the Dutch driver’s jaw twitches again. “Fourteen.”

He can’t help but glance around the room taking in how the other guys are still looking at Max and now him in confusion. He notes that Charles has gotten up, clearly ready to interfere. Get in between them if it comes down to it. And Pierre winces. There would be no getting out of this. He’d have to come clean and perhaps lose Charles’ friendship forever.

“Would you like to hit me and then talk? Or talk and then hit me?” He offers Max, figuring that no matter what he’d end the night with some bruises. Suddenly she’s standing in between them, gently resting a hand on Max’s chest. “There won’t be any hitting. Words only.” She tells Max, her eyes flickering to her brother as she says it. His expression of confusion only deepened at the words also directed towards him as he sat back down.

She pushes Max to sit down on the floor next to Daniel and a space between him and Charles where she would sit in a moment. She turns to face Pierre.

“Je suis désolé, pierre.” I’m so sorry, Pierre. She apologizes, twisting her fingers together in a way that makes him wince. He shakes his head, standing and maybe he shouldn’t but he pulls her into a hug. Keeping his hands clearly in Max’s sight. There was no need to make him any madder. “Non, bébé calmar. Tu ne t'excuses pas. C'est bien.” No, baby squid. You don't apologize. It's fine. He pulls away from her, giving her hand a squeeze before taking a step back. “C'est à vous de partager.” It is for you to share. “Ce n'est pas seulement le mien.” It is not just mine. He shakes his head, had he hoped that Charles would never know, yes. But he had always known that one day he’d find out. He could only be happy that he got a decade more of his friendship. “C'était toujours le tien.” It was always yours. She looks like she is going to argue more and he expects her to. It was such a Leclerc thing to do, argue until you got your way. But she doesn’t. She gives him another sorry look before sitting in between Max and Charles. Ignoring the soft nudge that her brother gives her.

“Max,” Pierre starts to say, but stops not sure what to say, what to do. Did the younger driver want an apology? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t something he could apologize to Max for. The only person he really could offer an apology to was Charles and that was only for not telling him sooner.

Pierre and Y/N had spoken about it after it happened. It wasn’t something they could really ignore or pretend didn’t happen. They had even spoken about it a little over a year ago when Kika had found out. Kika made a joke about it as they all went for dinner, a little wine drunk, but hoping to see Pierre get a little flustered. He nearly smiles at the thought of Kika. She really was amazing, far better than he deserved, and her easy acceptance of what happened between them when they were so young.

“Fourteen, Pierre. She was fourteen.” Max’s voice draws him out of his thoughts. “Yes, and I was seventeen.” His acknowledgement makes Max wince and he catches Alex’s wide eyes and knows that he’s realized what this about or at least has a good idea of it. “And you just,” Max starts, before shaking his head. “That was fine with you?” “I wouldn’t do it again, if that’s what you are asking.” Pierre sighs when Max’s expression doesn’t change. “Max, your issue with this is the age difference. And I imagine it’s worse because of Kika, yes?” Max nods. He presses his lips together, murmuring to himself in french under his breath. “I never intended for it to happen, Max. We were kids. Me less so, but still young, foolish.”

“What happened?” Charles speaks for the first time, looking between Pierre and Max. “What happened when you were seventeen?” Pierre sighs, but before he can speak, she does. “Charles, do you remember when you were fifteen, we went to that race in France and we stayed with Pierre’s family for the night?” He nods after a second. “Yes, Papa didn’t want to stay at the track or drive home that night.” “I couldn’t sleep that night, so I went down to the basement so I could pace.” “You still do that.” Charles interrupts her, the words fond. “Yes. But Pierre was also there, he couldn’t sleep either. We ended up talking.” Charles nods, because yes that made sense. She didn’t like pacing if someone else was in the room and awake. Would rather talk until she fell asleep. “Pierre and I,” she pauses before slipping into french. “nous avons fait l'amour.” we had sex. “Non.” No. His mouth is open, disbelief in his eyes. “Non. Vous deux ne l'avez pas fait.” No. You two did not. “Charles,” she lays a hand on his arm. “We did. It was in the moment and never happened again.” “But you were so young. Just a baby.” His face is horrified and everyone in the room knows now what Max bursting in was about. Her brows furrow. “I was not a baby. I was fourteen.” Charles makes a pained noise and then his attention turns to Pierre, a fire in his eyes.

“You!” He points at Pierre. “How could you! She’s my sister. My baby sister!” He puts his hands up. “We didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I went down to the basement to watch tv because I couldn’t sleep. Not to have sex for the first time with your sister.” His fists clench, wanting to say something more, but unable to say anything but, “Je suis désolé, Charles. J'aurais dû,” I'm sorry, Charles. I should have, “Non.” Charles shakes his head, stopping him. “I don’t want to hear it. You should have told me sooner. Not wait so long. I need time. She was a baby, Pierre.” He says the last sentence quietly and Pierre knows that his insistence makes no sense to her or the rest of the people in the room, but he understands.

He had been the one to hold Charles after his father made him promise to always take care of her, to watch over her, to protect her. Had cemented that she was his baby sister, she needed protection, to Charles. Had promised to help Charles with that promise.

“I need time, Calamar.” His voice is gentle, but there's a raw element to it. “Of course, Charles.” As he stands to look around the room, he has to look away at the different looks some of the drivers give him. Moving out of the weird sort of circle the driver’s had formed when they first entered Charles’ room hours ago, he stops just before the entryway.

“Y/N if,” “I know, Pierre.” She stops him before he can continue, already knowing what he’s going to say. “Give Kika my love.” He huffs out a laugh. “Of course.” And with that he slips out of the room.

—

“Are you better, Max?” She asks, when nearly an hour later they are back in his hotel room, a glass of wine in her hand. He winces, “I’m sorry. My anger got the better of me.” She nods, lips pressing together. A little embarrassment still lingering inside of her. It wasn’t Lando, Daniel, Alex, or George knowing. It was Charles. It was her older brother, her closest brother. She had never wanted Charles to know that much about her and Pierre. She knew just like Pierre even if they had hoped it wouldn’t come out, that it would. She had just figured it would come out that yes, they had sex together. It was one time, maybe that they were each other's firsts but that was it.

She didn’t want him to know that it was in France. After a race, in Pierre’s home. She especially didn’t want him to know that she had been fourteen. It made her shrink a little, knowing that he knew that. And yet she didn’t hate Max for letting that loose. She was a little angry with him, but it was her own fault. She should have never been so careless to let it slip that it was Pierre when he was close by. Should have waited for summer break, when they were in completely different countries.

“I’m angry with you.” She was not going to hide that. “I didn’t want Charles to know that. All of that. Pierre and I figured that at some point it would come out, but he was not supposed to know all of that.” “I’m sorry.” He apologizes again. “I,” he pauses. “My temper, it needs to be worked on.” She nods again, “You are better than before. You’ve grown much since.” She sighs, placing the glass down and turning to look at him. “I should have waited until summer break.” He shakes his head, “no, this was all me. And I’ll apologize to Pierre as well.” He looks a little pained at the thought. “Good. He deserves one.” “Yes, he does.”

She looks at him, taking in the regretful expression on his face. The way his body is slightly curled in. Grabbing her glass of wine, she tosses the rest of the glass back, before setting it back down and taking her shirt off.

“I’m going to take a shower.” She tells him, thumbs pressing between her skin and her pants as she starts to take them off. “You’re going to join me.” “I am?” She raises an eyebrow. “I am.” Max nods, eyes wide as he watches her completely strip. “Good. Hurry. It’ll be cold without you.” She tells him, before walking to the bathroom, the door slightly closed behind her as the sound of the shower fills the room.

---

Tagging: @lpab @gemofthenight @peachiicherries

[what-even-is-thiss]

Hey I saw you talk about comprehensible input for Spanish, and you said it was easy and it seems effective. I'm learning German, and I wanna ask what comprehensible input is and how I could do some of that

Comprehensible input means watching or listening to stuff in the language where you understand 90% or more of what’s going on. If you’re reading it’s more like 98%. Early on this usually means either watching stuff for babies or watching stuff made for adult learners if that exists. Watching stuff for adult learners is generally better because it works better if you’re interested in what’s going on. Once easier stuff is too boring for you then you move on to slightly harder stuff etc etc. it’s supposed to take about a thousand hours of good quality input for you to be able to understand native speakers with no issues give or take depending on your native language and the language you’re studying. Right now I’m at like 50-ish hours in Spanish which means I’m watching slightly harder videos that still have a lot of visual cues but it’s not piss easy either. I can also understand most quick things I overhear people say on the street to each other but I don’t really know how to talk yet. My brain hasn’t pieced that part together.

For German specifically resources for this are YouTube channels like Comprehensible German and Natürlich German. And Deutsch Welle’s learn German section of their website has a couple series like Nico’s Weg that follow a similar idea.

The key is to not translate in your head or assign meaning to specific words or try to figure out the grammar when you watch videos or read but just try to understand what’s going on.

Some people supplement this with flash cards strictly doing vocabulary and no grammar. Especially if good comprehensible input resources aren’t available for the language you’re studying. Doing vocabulary drills and watching tv with subtitles in the language you’re learning can also be effective.

Another way to do this if you can’t afford a special class or there’s no good videos available but you do have native speakers on hand who are willing to be a “language parent” for you is for them to sit down with you and only teach you the words for yes and no and then they pick up something like a kids picture book and start pointing at things and slowly explaining it to you and asking you questions like you’re a baby for an hour or two every day. Most people do not have a native speaker on hand willing to do this though. But if you do then this video where a guy documents learning Arabic with this method should give both you and the native speaker an idea of how this works.

If you want resources googling “comprehensible input (language)” should get you started. There’s also a lot of different communities for language learners of different languages or language learning generally on Reddit like r/French, r/Portuguese, r/swahili or r/languagelearning for example. Most of those places have a dedicated page for compiling resources from the community and you can also ask questions to the community and in my experience they’re usually pretty helpful people.

Right now I’m mostly using Dreaming Spanish for Spanish but also other channels like Easy Spanish and Español con Juan. I’m also dabbling a bit in the channels Comprehendible Japanese and Nihongo-Learning for Japanese but Spanish is my main priority right now.

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls (IX) | Max Verstappen

Words count: 1K

Driver!OC x Max Verstappen

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: google translated french, dutch, cursing, child abandment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

This is a secondary blog so I won't be able to respond but I'm adding you all to the taglist.

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DADDY

2022

In French

It's well established that Nathalie LOVES Max, after her mother she loves him the most. Now the girl was old enough to realise that Max came into her life after she was born and that he isn't her dad. As she's been told to call him Max(indirectly), by everyone, even Max. But three years in his relationship with Cecilia and with two years of living together Max became a very important part of her life. Nathalie doesn’t remember life before Max, she got so used to him that when he and Cecilia are away she misses him as much as he misses her mum.

"Maman." The young girl of 6 whispers as her mum sat on her bed reading her a story. Cecilia looked up hearing the timid tone in her daughter’s voice, Nattie showed her usual telltale of being nervous, she was playing/fidgeting with a plushy that Max won for her in an amusement park and she was avoiding eye contact.

"What is it, mon ange?" Cecilia asked and gently brushed Natties hair out of her face.

"Max-Max isn't my dad right?" A few things came into Cecilia’s mind, first Nathalie is speaking in French, which Max knows a bit but it isn't his strongest language, and she certainly wasn't expecting this, she stopped from answering right away thinking it over, she was trying to think where this came from. It's never been a secret that he isn't, biologically at least and she thought that Nattie understood that.

"No he isn't my love, why are you asking?" Cecilia's mind ran a 1000 times an hour thinking everything over. "Did someone say anything?"

"Not really." Nattie shook her head before she pouted and stopped playing/fidgeting with her plushie, her blue eyes meeting her mother's. "Don't dad's drop their kids off at school?"

"Sometimes, they do." Cecilia had no idea where this was going.

"They play with their kids."

"Yes."

"They buy them things."

"Yeah."

"They go swimming?"

"Uh-huh."

"They teach them how to cart and how to do things?"

"Yeah."

"And they cook them breakfast and help them brush their teeth and pick their clothes."

"They do my love, why are you asking all this?"

"Well Max does all this, doesn't that mean he's my dad?" Cecilia's heart broke for her little girl, she grew up in a loving family with both her parents together. She can't imagine what Nattie is feeling, some part of her feels guilty. Should she have talked to her and explained everything that has to do with her bio dad? Nevertheless she's forever glad for Max for filling that part in Natties life. He does treat her like a dad would, he’s so selfless taking her in like his own despite being in his early twenties at the time and just giving her pure unconditional love, his family taking her in as their own.

“Do you want him to be your dad?” Cecilia softly asks and she leans down so she’s able to meet Nathalie’s eyes, Nattie shyly nods, Cecilia smiles reassuringly. Her and Max haven't talked about the possibility of him being Natties dad but he had the question on the tip of his tongue a few times, she could tell each time but didn't want to pressure him into asking, she thought he'd eventually ask her but it looks like her impatient daughter beat him to it first. “Do you want to ask him?”

“Yes.” Nattie whispers, she looks nervous but Cecilia knows that that’s what Nattie has been after all along, she wants her mother to confirm that it’s okay to ask Max to be her dad, that her feelings are correct, she hasn’t been reading into it too much.

“Do you want to ask him now?” Max was in their shared bedroom getting ready for bed last she left him, with one last nod from Nattie, both of them left Nathalie’s bedroom and crossed the hallway to the master bedroom the drivers shared. walking in Max was already in bed, he had his back to the headboard looking at something on his phone with the lights dimmed. Nathalie races to the bed and gets on before she crawls up the bed to where Max is.

“Hey there, schatje, I thought you were going to sleep.” Max asks and opens his arms for the girl who instantly snuggles into his side, after she gets under the covers. “Do you want to stay with Mummy today?”

“No.” Nathalie says with a small smile.

“No?” Max is amused yet a tad bit confused, Nathalie rarely sleeps with Cecilia now, when she was younger she would sleep with them every once and a while but since they moved in together it became less and less now.

“I want to sleep with daddy.” Cheeky, Cecilia thought, Nathalie looked like she would be too scared to ask before they came in the room but look at her now. Max looked at Cecilia with wide eyes, she was standing just in the room, she was grinning at her boyfriend, who looked surprised. Max then turned to look at Nathalie who was nervous.

“What did you call me?” Max had to be sure, he could be too tired, he could have misheard, this could be a mistake, a slip of the tongue.

“Daddy.” She whispered again, Max pulled her on his lap and just hugged her, her face his in his neck as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder.

“You want me to be your dad?” Max asked, his voice wavering, it’s rare to see Max this emotional, but his voice is heavy as he asked Nattie.

“Yeah, can you be my dad… please?” Nattie asked both Max and Cecilia could tell that the girl is tearing up, Cecilia’s own eyes filled with tears as did Max’s.

“Yeah, definitely, if you want me to.” Max pulled back enough to see her face and it was already wet, her blue eyes looking up at him with so much love and innocence, this is a young girl who always wanted a dad and he’s beyond willing to fill that role for her.

“I do.” Nattie dragged the ‘o’ out as she cried, a sob leaving her mouth making Max pull her back in for a hug, Cecilia moved to the bed sitting beside them her hand fell onto Max’s thigh in comfort.

“I love you so much, schatje, it’ll make me the happiest man to be your dad.”

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