#cl16 sf

[mrsfancyferrari]

Winter Wonder

Summary: CL16 + Winter Power Outage

Song: Snowman by Sia

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 4.8k

The winter winds howled outside your apartment, a cacophony of icy air rattling the windows. You curled deeper into your favorite blanket, the soft, knit fabric offering some reprieve from the chill that seeped in despite the heating system working overtime.

Time slipped by quietly, marked only by the occasional glance at the clock on your wall.

Suddenly, the lights flickered before plunging you into darkness. A soul-sucking black surrounded you, and fear pricked at your skin like a thousand tiny needles. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was just the dark, but the familiar, suffocating anxiety crept in.

You fumbled for your phone in haste, desperately hoping the flashlight function could chase away the shadows. Your fingers danced upon the screen, but it was useless. The battery was dead.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself, a mix of frustration and fear bubbling up. You didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face the abyss just outside your blanket fortress.

It was ridiculous—an adult, scared of the dark. But you couldn’t help it. The darkness felt alive, wrapping around you like a living entity.

Telling yourself it was all just a trick of the mind, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly. Deep breaths. It’s fine. It’s just the dark. But then came the sound that seized your heart—your front door creaking open.

You froze. Did you forget to lock it? Had it been a force of nature, or was someone actually breaking in? Panic surged within you. “No, no, no…” you mouthed silently, listening intently.

The something that entered your space felt heavy, and every instinct told you to run; but where could you go?

Then, out of the dark, a voice sliced through your fear like a knife. “Y/N?”

Relief washed over you, but it was almost immediately shadowed by confusion. “Charles?” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

As the outline of your neighbor stepped closer, the shadows seemed to recede. He took a moment to make sure you were really there.

“Yes, it’s me,” he confirmed, the tension in his voice easing slightly as he reached for the light on his phone, illuminating his features in the dim glow. His forehead was creased with worry, his dark curls falling over his eyes, which now focused on you.

“I saw the lights go out in the entire building and thought I’d check on you.”

“What are you doing here?” Your voice came out a little sharper than intended, but it was impossible to mask the lingering dread that clung to your words.

“I thought you might be scared—it’s a pretty big outage,” he replied, his tone laced with concern. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You tucked the blanket tighter around your shoulders, suddenly aware of how vulnerable the darkness made you feel. He stepped closer, the light from his phone creating a small bubble of warmth in your chilly place. “Are you alright?”

“I… I just don’t like the dark, Charles,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. It felt childish to admit it, but there it was anyway.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in the dimness. “It’s okay. You’re not alone. A lot of people dislike the dark. It’s unsettling.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “It’s silly, I know. I feel like I should be above this fear.”

“No, it makes sense.” He lowered himself to sit on the floor next to you, his phone casting a gentle light between you. “The dark can hide so many things. It’s natural to be afraid of what might be lurking. How about I stay with you until the lights come back on?”

“Really?” The surprise in your voice was palpable, but somewhere underneath the astonishment, comfort began to blossom. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he replied. “Besides, I’m not exactly thrilled about sitting in my dark apartment either.” He shrugged, an endearing grin spreading across his face. “It’s always better to face fears with a friend, right?”

You nodded slowly, feeling the tension bleed out of your muscles as you absorbed his words. Charles always had known how to put you at ease.

“Thank you,” you said softly, glancing sideways at him. “I didn’t realize I’d be this scared. I mean, it’s just a power outage…”

“It’s more than just a power outage when you’re in the dark by yourself. I get it.” He waved the phone around theatrically, light bouncing off the walls. “Look, the shadows are just shadows. See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his playful antics, feeling a bit of your fear dissipate. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you.” His expression grew serious again. “Seriously though, whenever I hear thunderstorm warnings, I prep my flashlight and snacks. I’m not ashamed to admit that I find comfort in being ready. It’s just practical.”

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the gentle flicker of the phone light illuminating the space just enough to allow you both to feel safe.

As the howling wind continued to remind you of the storm outside, your heartbeat synchronized more closely with Charles’.

You glanced over, finding him watching you intently, a soft smile dancing on his lips. “You know, it’s alright to let yourself be scared sometimes. We’re all human.”

His words felt like a warm blanket on a cold night, wrapping around you like the layers of the throw you had cocooned yourself in. “I guess being scared means I’m also capable of feeling brave.”

“Yes!” He nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. And it takes a lot of bravado to admit it, too. So, if you ever need someone to count on when the lights go out…”

“I’ll definitely call you,” you replied, the smile growing on your face.

“Good. Now can I get inside your blanket? It's freezing,” Charles asked, his voice turning a little sheepish as he gestured towards your cozy nest of warmth.

“Sure, come right in,” you said, flinging the blanket open to invite him inside. He scooted over eagerly, the warmth of your body and the soft fabric enveloping him as he settled in beside you.

“Ah, this is what I call luxury,” Charles said, letting out a contented sigh. The proximity stirred a strange mix of comfort and excitement within you, a spark that ignited when he laughed at your shared misery over the powerless situation.

“Luxury, huh? You sure know how to sell it,” you joked, adjusting the blanket around both of you.

The heat radiating from him was comforting, yet it sent tiny shivers down your spine, stirring a strange mix of excitement and fluster within you.

“This is a luxury, being so warm and having a beautiful woman beside me,” Charles said straightforwardly, his voice sincere and unreserved.

Your jaw dropped at his candidness, suddenly feeling heat rise to your cheeks. For a moment, you forgot about the winter storm outside and the flickering candles, lost in the way he looked at you.

“Charles, flattery will get you nowhere around here,” you said, regaining your composure. You tried to sound calm and playful, but inside, your heart raced a little faster at his unexpected compliment.

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short! You’re the entire package—you’ve got warmth and wit,” Charles replied, nudging you playfully with his shoulder. “And if I may say, a very lovely smile.”

“Alright, alright. Now you’re just trying to butter me up,” you laughed, playfully pushing him away, though you were secretly reveling in the attention.

Charles chuckled, leaning back slightly, a grin spreading across his face. “Is it working?”

“Maybe,” you said, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. There was something magnetic about the way he looked at you, his deep green eyes sparkling with mischief and warmth.

The playful banter continued until a chill ran through the room, and the reality of the cold seeped in. You started to shiver, pulling your shirt tighter around you, trying to make it unnoticeable.

But Charles was observant. “You’re cold too, do you need me to get you a jumper?” he asked, concern etching itself across his face as he rose slightly from the couch.

You instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm. “No, don’t leave,” you said, slightly shy, the warmth of his presence making you feel secure.

“Okay, ma chérie,” he muttered with a smile, easing back down beside you. There was something about the way he said it, the tenderness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

“Can I cuddle you instead? I can’t have you freezing in your own house,” Charles suggested with a hopeful look.

You hesitated but nodded, heart pounding. It was the “yes” you didn’t know you wanted to say. Charles slowly wrapped his arms around you, giving you the opportunity to back out, but you didn’t.

Once he settled in, you melted into his embrace, feeling the heat radiate from his body and wrap around you like a warm blanket.

“This is nice,” you murmured, nestling your head against his shoulder.

“See? Told you it would work,” he teased softly, squeezing you a little tighter.

You felt a wave of contentment wash over you, easing the panic of the darkness.

With every minute wrapped up in his embrace, the cold and fear melted away, but it was the tender intimacy of the moment that pulled you toward sleep despite your best efforts to stay awake.

“Hey,” Charles whispered, sensing your struggle. “You know you can go to sleep, ma chérie. I’ll keep watch for when the power comes on.”

His voice was soothing, the way he said “ma chérie” made your heart flutter.

You opened your eyes slightly, looking up at him, and the gentle smile playing on his lips felt like sunshine cutting through the storm outside. “Are you sure? I don’t want to burden you,” you mumbled.

“You could never be a burden to me,” he replied with sincerity. “Just let your mind drift; I promise I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

His words wrapped around you like a soft blanket, urging you to surrender. You nodded, allowing yourself to relax further into his arms. “Okay, just for a little while then.”

“Good,” he said, his voice a low hum, like a lullaby. “You’ve been working too hard; you deserve this.”

With that, your eyes fluttered closed, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a deep slumber. As the minutes passed, the silence around you deepened, punctuated only by the howling wind outside.

It was peaceful, and you let go of the fear, allowing yourself to drift into dreams. . . . .

Now, waking to the gentle patter of your heart echoed by his own, you lifted your head, squinting against the soft light. The lamp had returned, illuminating the cozy chaos of your living room.

Your heart fluttered in your chest—there was Charles, asleep, his arms wrapped protectively around you.

You noticed the way his long eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks, and how his messy hair curled adorably above his forehead.

He looked almost serene, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to truly admire him. The stubble on his jaw gave him a rugged charm, one that made your cheeks flush with a warmth that had little to do with the safety of the blanket cocooning you both.

As you reluctantly pulled away, careful not to wake him, you thought to yourself, “You like Charles.” It was a revelation that sent a flutter through your stomach.

You didn't just like him as a friend anymore; it was something deeper, a connection that pulsed between your hearts.

Just as the thought settled in your mind, Charles stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked at the sudden light, then smiled at you with a sleepy grin.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

He blinked at the sudden brightness of the fireplace, then smiled at you with a sleepy grin. It made your heart race in a way that surprised you.

“Hey,” you replied softly, a shy smile creeping onto your face. You remained nestled on his chest, and he didn’t seem to mind at all.

In fact, he pulled you in a little closer, the wool of his sweater prickly against your cheek.

“Sorry for sleeping on duty,” Charles joked, a playful glint in his eye. “The power came back on, and I couldn’t resist the chance to sleep with a beautiful lady.” His words hung in the air, charged with an unspoken tension.

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat. “What if I told you I was using the opportunity to sleep with a handsome guy?”

Before he could respond, a knock interrupted the bubble you’d created. You pushed yourself up, reluctantly leaving the sanctuary of his embrace.

Charles followed suit, his expression turning serious as he prepared for what lay outside your door.

You opened the door to find Carlos, his eyes moving from you to Charles behind you. He looked shocked for a moment, surprise flickering across his face, but quickly regained his composure.

“Hey Y/N! I was going to ask if you’ve seen Charles since everyone is looking for him,” Carlos teased, crossing his arms. “But he’s been hiding with you the whole time.”

“Cut it out, Carlos,” you said, trying your best to sound reproachful but failing miserably as warmth spread through your chest.

“Really? I came bearing news that half the town is without power due to this winter storm, and you two look pretty cozy,” he declared with a theatrical flourish, throwing in an exaggerated wink that made you laugh.

“Yeah, nothing like a good old-fashioned power outage to light a fire under romance!” Carlos continued, his tone mockingly serious. “What’s next, a candle-lit dinner?”

You felt your cheeks flush; you had scoffed at the idea before, but now, nestled against Charles, who sat on the floor beside you, you savored the closeness that the power outage had inadvertently sparked.

“Everyone wanted to go out after the lights came back on, but we tried to call your phone, and you didn’t answer,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

“Really? In this weather?” He raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-concerned.

“Yeah, mate,” Carlos said with a big grin on his face. “But if you don’t want to come to stay with ta copine, then that’s okay.” He smirked, the teasing glint in his eye directed firmly at Charles.

You caught the French word “copine,” realizing it was Carlos’ playful jab at Charles’s affection for you. It took you a moment to piece together the implication—“girlfriend.”

You shot a glance at Charles, but his expression remained steady, a smile playing on his lips as he grinned at Carlos.

“I think you’re mistaken, Carlos,” Charles replied, his voice light yet purposeful. “I’ll always want to stay with my friends. Especially in a weather like this.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. Was that a hint? A whisper of something more?

Carlos saw the moment linger and leaned forward with mock curiosity. “Right,” he continued, turning to you, “you don’t want him, do you? I can just take him away and give you peace.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter.

“Thanks for your concern, Carlos,” you replied, your voice laced with a playful edge. “But I’m happy enough for Charles to stay if he wants to.”

You glanced up to catch Charles looking at you with an unmistakable glow of pride that made your cheeks heat up. He opened his mouth, seemingly ready to respond, but Carlos, always the instigator, cut in.

“Well, I guess I can’t take him away. Enjoy your cozy cuddles,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows before pushing himself off the couch, the playful glint still dancing in his eyes as he headed towards the kitchen.

As soon as Carlos disappeared, the atmosphere shifted. The faint glow from the emergency candles flickered around the room, casting gentle shadows on the walls as you turned to face Charles.

“So, what do you want to do?” you asked shyly, hoping the question would open a door to something fun.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m so hungry,” Charles declared, patting his tummy dramatically like a cartoon character. “All that sleeping made me hungry.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. “Alright, Mr. Pancake, let’s see what we can whip up.”

With a nod, you walked past Charles toward the kitchen, and he followed closely behind, his energy palpable as it filled the small space between you two.

“How about we whip up some pancakes?” he suggested, already gazing into your kitchen cabinets as if they held the secrets to the universe.

"Pancakes sound amazing," you replied, your heart fluttering at the thought of cooking together. “Do you want them with blueberries or chocolate chips?”

“Honestly?” he asked, eyes twinkling. “Why not both? Live a little, right?”

You laughed, grabbing a mixing bowl and the ingredients. “You’re a bad influence, Charles.”

“Guilty as charged,” he teased, leaning against the countertop. “But pancakes are a serious matter. We need to tackle this thing together.”

The sun streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating the flour dust floating through the air. The scent of vanilla already danced around the room, teasing your senses as Charles organized the countertop, a wide smile plastered on his face.

“Okay, you’ve done enough, you can go relax,” Charles said, rolling his sleeves up, exposing his toned arms, ready for action.

“What do you mean? I’m helping out!” you protested, a grin creeping onto your own face as you grabbed the baking powder and some eggs from the fridge.

He chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. “Nope, I’m treating you today. Just sit there and enjoy the show.”

You could tell he was attempting to take charge of the kitchen. But before you could grab more ingredients, two strong arms snaked around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the ground and placing you on the counter.

“Hey! Put me down!” you squealed, squirming as you tried to escape his grasp.

With a playful glint in his eyes, he tightened his grip slightly. “Not a chance. Now you stay here and watch me cook if you want.”

Puffing out your cheeks in mock annoyance, you crossed your arms. “You’re impossible, you know that? I just wanted to help!”

He leaned closer, his face hovering near yours, the warmth of his breath making your heart race. “And I appreciate that, but I want to spoil you a little today.”

You had no words. The way he watched you made it impossible to think clearly. All you could muster was a reluctant nod.

“Good, ma chérie,” he murmured, stepping back with a satisfied grin. “And you can speak too! I like to hear the sound of your voice.”

“Is that so?” you replied, trying to inject some playful sarcasm into your tone.

“Definitely,” he said, whisking together a bowl of flour, baking powder, and eggs with long, confident strokes. “You make everything sound better.”

“Flattery is the way to my heart, I see,” you teased, leaning back on your hands as you watched him work.

He shot you a playful look, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought you were already in my heart?”

“Touché,” you laughed, feeling the butterflies surge in your stomach as he began pouring the batter onto the hot griddle. The sizzling sound filled the kitchen, and you couldn’t help but lean forward, intrigued by his skill.

“Just wait until you taste these pancakes. They are going to be the best thing you’ve ever had,” Charles declared, flipping a pancake with flair.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “No pressure, then.”

He glanced back at you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Oh, there's plenty of time for us to go out for breakfast if you don’t like them.”

As he stacked the pancakes high on a plate, you could feel yourself warming up to the idea of indulging in his culinary creations. “You know,” you said thoughtfully, “you could really make a career out of this.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, turning down the heat. “But I definitely know how to make someone smile with pancakes.”

The kitchen filled with laughter and conversation as he poured syrup over the stack, letting it drip down the sides. “Ready?” Charles asked with an exaggerated air of anticipation.

“Always,” you replied, accepting a plate filled with fluffy pancakes topped with fresh berries.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you intently as you took your first bite. “And?”

You closed your eyes and savored the taste. “Oh my God, Charles! These are amazing!” You grinned, your heart soaring at his happiness.

“See? I told you.” He leaned in closer, pride shining in his eyes. “I’m a magnificent chef after all.”

“As if I’d ever doubted that,” you said playfully, taking another mouthful, wishing the moment would last forever.

You were about to say more when you caught the sparkling mischief in his expression. “Hey, do you remember that time we tried to make dinner together? And almost burnt down the kitchen?”

You burst into laughter, remembering the smoke and chaos. “I still can’t believe we thought we were ready for spaghetti bolognese. The kitchen was a disaster!”

Charles mimicked the exasperated look you’d given him back then, sending you into fits of laughter again. “Never again, right?”

“Agreed. I think I’ll leave the cooking to you from now on,” you said with a grin.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Oh? So you’re just here for my cooking and my good looks?”

“Maybe,” you replied, biting your lip as you leaned forward, adding a conspiratorial tone. “But I have to admit, I also like the way you roll up your sleeves in the kitchen.”

“Is that so?” His voice dropped to a low rumble, and he moved closer, the playful banter shifting into something deeper.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. “It’s just… you know, you make this whole cooking thing look good.”

“Just like that?” he teased, leaning closer. “I make pancakes look good?”

Your heart raced at the closeness. “Well, that too. But mostly, it’s because... you make me feel good, Charles.”

He smiled, that infectiously warm, sincere smile that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

The atmosphere felt electrifying, as if the world had slowed just for the two of you. “Incredible? Really?” you asked, playfully batting your eyelashes.

The atmosphere felt electrifying, as if the world had slowed just for the two of you.

Charles was everything you had ever wanted—handsome, kind, and brave.

As he stood close to you, the heat between you was palpable. The faint scent of the lavender he wore mixed with the aroma of fresh pastries, creating an intoxicating blend that felt uniquely him.

Charles instinctively hooked a finger and tenderly lifted your chin, tilting it up so that you could look into his eyes. His touch felt electric, sending shivers cascading through you.

“Ma chérie. Look at me,” he commanded softly, and you listened, entranced.

His hands were now brushing against your waist, fingers resting on your hips, anchoring you to the moment. You could see the hunger in his gaze, an unspoken connection simmering between you like a spark begging to be ignited.

Your heart raced, caught in the precarious balance of anticipation and excitement.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice low, almost husky, that familiar spark of temptation igniting the air. His fingers brushed against the hem of your trousers, soft and tentative, as if he were seeking permission more than anything else.

You had often fantasized about this moment, the air heavy with unspoken words and a desire that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long.

Your heart raced, torn between bashfulness and undeniable longing.

“You… you can,” you whispered, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could think twice.

A pleased smile blossomed on his lips, and Charles leaned in, the world around you seemingly fading away. He closed the distance, breath warm and inviting against your skin.

“Because I’ve been wanting to for a while now,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips inches away.

Your heart hammered in your chest, anticipation crackling in the air. His kiss was gentle at first, a soft brush of warmth against your mouth, but as you surrendered to the moment, barriers that had once held you back crumbled under the weight of passion.

You kissed him back, boldly entwining your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper.

Time ceased to exist as you melted into the sweetness of the moment, the world around you dissolving into nothingness. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you firmly as he deepened the kiss, tilting your head just so to fit together perfectly.

When he finally pulled back, he looked into your eyes as if searching for something.

“I really like you,” Charles confessed, sincerity etched into every feature.

The walls around your heart began to crumble as you met his gaze, feeling exposed yet completely safe.

“I like you too,” you managed, the words swirling like a warm breeze amidst your fluttering heart. “I’ve liked you for a while.”

Warmth flooding through your body as he reached out, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered on your skin, sending shivers racing down your spine.

You locked eyes, the air between you crackling with anticipation. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, leaning closer.

“I… I was scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Of what?” he probed gently.

“Of ruining what we have,” you confessed, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

He stepped closer, closing the gap between you until you could feel the warmth radiating off his body. With a surge of courage, you reached out and touched his arm. “But I can’t pretend anymore.”

“I don’t want to either,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with unspoken wishes.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, a hesitant question that quickly turned into a passion-filled exchange. The kiss deepened, a sweet exploration that tasted like hope and yearning, sending fireworks exploding through your very core.

As you pulled back, breathless and dizzy, the lights above flickered ominously before plunging the kitchen into darkness. The power had gone out again.

“Charles!” you exclaimed, panic creeping into your voice as you instinctively clutched the edge of the counter, fear coursing through you like ice.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice steady and soothing, wrapping around you like a protective barrier. “It’s just the power. We’ll be fine.”

But your heart raced, the darkness closing in around you, invading the safe space you’d just carved out together. “I hate the dark,” you admitted, trembling.

He stepped closer, grounding you with his presence. His hands found your waist, a steadying grip that felt like a lifeline. “I’ll be here, I promise. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Can you… can you just hold me?” you asked, feeling vulnerable, your heart pounding like a drum.

“Always,” he replied, warmth radiating from his body as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a protective embrace.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “I can still feel you,” you murmured, comforted by his closeness amidst the engulfing darkness.

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere,” Charles reassured you, the deep timbre of his voice soothing. “You’re safe with me.”

“Thanks, Charles,” you whispered, gripping the apple tighter, as though it could shield you from the darkness that felt alive, drawing closer with each passing moment.

“No worries, ma chérie.” He leaned closer, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his lips lingering for just a moment too long. It sent a wave of warmth cascading through you, dispelling some of the shadows still clinging to your heart.

You always felt inexplicably calmer when he was around, more grounded. . . . .

[f1archives]

Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc talking after the race - Qatar, 2024

[cutielando]

hold me? | c.l.

synopsis: in which he only wants you to hold him

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

It’s a quiet, overcast afternoon in Monaco, the kind where the skies seem to mirror the feelings of those under them. The rain has been falling steadily since morning, a soft patter against the windows filling the silence in your apartment. Normally, you’d find the sound soothing, but today it seems to add to the heaviness hanging in the air.

Charles has been uncharacteristically quiet all day. You noticed it during breakfast, where his usual playful banter was replaced with absent nods and distracted glances. He barely touched his coffee, something he never does, and the light in his eyes seemed dulled.

Now, he’s sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. His posture is slouched, and every now and then, he lets out a sigh that tugs at your heart.

From the kitchen, you watch him for a moment, your fingers curling around the warm mug of tea you made for him. You can tell he’s carrying something heavy, the kind of weight he’s too stubborn to share unless coaxed.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over and set the tea on the coffee table, then perch on the armrest of the couch beside him.

“Charles,” you call softly.

He glances up at you, his honey-brown eyes tired and unfocused.

“Hmm?”

You reach out to smooth the blanket over his lap, a small gesture of care.

“I brought you some tea,” you say gently, trying not to push too much too soon.

“Merci,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, almost flat.

He takes the mug but doesn’t drink, instead staring into the steam as if lost in thought.

You slip onto the couch beside him, leaning in so your knee brushes his.

“You’ve been quiet today,” you say carefully, not wanting to overwhelm him. “Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

He hesitates, his lips parting before he shakes his head slightly. But the way his shoulders slump tells you he does—it’s just hard for him to find the words.

Gently, you place your hand on his arm, grounding him.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Take your time.”

He sighs, setting the tea back on the table before leaning back against the couch. His gaze fixes on the ceiling, and for a moment, the only sound is the rain outside.

“Racing has been... tough lately,” he finally admits, his voice heavy with frustration. “I feel like I’m not good enough. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. The mistakes, the pressure, the expectations, it’s all piling up.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair.

“Sometimes I think... I’m letting everyone down. The team, the fans, even myself.”

Hearing the raw vulnerability in his voice makes your chest ache. You shift closer, sliding your arms around him without hesitation.

At first, he tenses, but then he melts into your embrace, his head finding its place on your shoulder.

“Charles,” you whisper, your fingers stroking through his soft curls, “you’re allowed to feel this way. You carry so much on your shoulders, and it’s okay to admit when it feels too heavy. But I need you to know that you’re not letting anyone down. Not your team, not your fans, and definitely not me.”

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, his breath warm against your neck.

“You always know what to say,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are glistening, and there’s a vulnerability there that he rarely shows. Gently, you cup his face, brushing your thumb along his cheek.

“I know what to say because I see you,” you say softly. “Not just Charles Leclerc, the racing driver, but Charles, the person I love. You don’t have to be perfect for me. You’re enough, just as you are.”

A tear escapes, and he quickly swipes it away, giving you a small, grateful smile.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment.

“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” you tease lightly, earning a soft chuckle from him.

For the rest of the afternoon, you stay like that, tangled together on the couch. At one point, he shifts to rest his head in your lap, and you run your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. He lets out a content sigh, his body fully relaxed for the first time in days.

When he drifts off to sleep, you stay still, watching the way his lips curve into the faintest smile. The rain outside begins to let up, but the calm in your heart remains, knowing that, for now, he’s at peace, and that you’ll always be there to help him find his way back to it.

No matter what.

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[duckiiieluv]

“cause he was sunshine / i was midnight rain”

[rawrl1ns]

Their smiles at the end :) (x)

[theadderalltoyourstiles]

Lestappies whenever Ferrari fucks up Charles :

[velvetsainz]

2023 F1 TEAMS ⟶ 1/10 ⟶ SCUDERIA FERRARI

"Everyone is a Ferrari fan. Even if they say they're not, they are Ferrari fans." — Sebastian Vettel, 4-time WDC + former SF driver

[hollandwhore]

goodbye sf-23 you will not be missed

[kimis-gloves]

leclerc girlies how r we doing😍

[lackadaisically-m]

Brother in Christ why are you lying why can't you just say they had the better drivers and go

[f1archives]

The Ferrari drivers on media day - Abu Dhabi, 2024 (📷 Antonin Vincent)

[cutielando]

the 90s | c.l.

synopsis: in which you wish you'd loved him in another era

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The faint hum of a radio fills the room, the static cutting in and out as an old tune plays softly in the background. You're seated cross-legged on the floor of Charles's apartment, a stack of vintage vinyl records scattered between the two of you.

The idea to explore the past through music had been yours—something to distract him from the pressures of the present and an excuse to spend a lazy afternoon together.

Charles is perched on the edge of the couch, his focus on a record sleeve he’s been examining for the past few minutes. His fingers trace over the faded artwork, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“I don’t get it,” he says finally, lifting the sleeve to show you. “‘The Cranberries?’ Sounds more like a fruit stand than a band.”

You laugh, your head tilting back as the sound fills the room.

“They’re iconic, Charles. You can’t judge them by the name. Here, let me show you.”

Sliding the record from its sleeve, you carefully place it on the turntable, lowering the needle until the crackling sound gives way to the opening chords of Dreams.

The room fills with the ethereal melody, and you glance at Charles to see his reaction.

He leans back, his arms stretched along the top of the couch as he listens. His eyes are closed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Okay, I get it now,” he admits, his voice soft. “It’s… different.”

“Different good?” you tease, nudging his knee with your foot.

“Different great,” he replies, his eyes opening to meet yours. “I can picture it. Being alive back then. Everything seemed so… simple.”

You nod, your gaze drifting toward the window where the golden glow of the afternoon sun streams in.

“Sometimes I think we missed out,” you say wistfully. “Life without the internet, no constant pressure to be perfect. Just real connections, you know?”

Charles doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifts from the couch to sit beside you on the floor, his shoulder brushing against yours. His presence is warm, grounding.

“Do you think things would’ve been easier for us?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

You turn to him, caught off guard by the seriousness in his tone.

“What do you mean?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize.

“I mean… us. You and me. Sometimes it feels like the world is always watching, waiting for us to mess up. It’s hard not to let that get in the way.”

Your chest tightens at his words. You know exactly what he’s talking about—the scrutiny, the judgment, the way people seemed to think they had a say in your relationship just because Charles was Charles Leclerc.

It wasn’t always easy, but you’d never once doubted that he was worth it.

“I think about that too,” you admit softly. “About how things might’ve been different if we’d met in another time. No cameras, no social media. Just us, figuring things out without everyone else’s opinions.”

Charles shifts closer, his hand finding yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a simple gesture that sends warmth flooding through you.

“Do you think we’d still find each other?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

The question catches you off guard, but the answer comes easily.

“I think so,” you say with certainty. “It doesn’t matter where or when. It’s always going to be you.”

His lips curve into a smile, one that reaches his eyes and makes your heart ache with how much you love him.

“I wish I could’ve loved you in the 90s,” he says softly, the words barely above a whisper.

You laugh, the sound tinged with affection.

“What would that look like, huh? Us in the 90s?”

He grins, his hand still holding yours as he leans back against the couch.

“We’d be at some diner, I think. You’d have one of those polaroid cameras, taking pictures of everything. Your milkshake, the jukebox, me looking confused because I don’t know how to use it.”

You giggle at the image, nudging his shoulder.

“And you’d probably show up to pick me up in some old car, pretending you know how to fix it when it breaks down.”

“Obviously,” he agrees, his grin widening. “But you’d forgive me because I’d make you a mixtape to apologize. All your favorite songs, of course.”

You shake your head, your cheeks aching from how much you’re smiling.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he counters, his tone playful but his eyes earnest.

Your laughter fades, replaced by a warmth that spreads through your chest. You lean your head against his shoulder, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as the record continues to play.

After a moment, Charles speaks again, his voice softer this time.

“Do you ever worry that… this won’t last? That all the noise, the pressure will get too much?”

You lift your head to look at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. Gently, you reach out to cup his face, your thumb brushing along his cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere, Charles,” you say firmly. “No matter how loud the world gets, no matter how hard it is. We’re stronger than that.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“How do you always know what to say?”

“Because I mean every word,” you reply.

The song changes, a slower melody filling the room. Charles opens his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Dance with me,” he says suddenly, standing and offering you his hand.

“Charles, there’s barely any room—” you laugh, hesitating.

“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupts, wiggling his fingers until you take his hand.

He pulls you to your feet, his arms slipping around your waist as yours loop around his neck.

The two of you sway to the music, the world outside fading away. The only thing that exists is this moment—his arms around you, the warmth of his breath against your temple, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

As the song plays on, you realize that while you might never know what it’s like to love him in the 90s, this—here and now—is more than enough. It’s messy and imperfect and complicated, but it’s real.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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[duckiiieluv]

charles next season

[its-everything-oclock]

Both Ferrari's in the points again❤️

Rip P2 constructors </3

[theadderalltoyourstiles]

When I said I'd love to see Charles in Blue, that is absolutely not what I meant (I was thinking more along the lines of Navy , if you know what i mean) But good for Charles that he has nothing to worry about. He'd look good in literally anything .

[forteafy]

Hi! Would you like to write one for Charles, where the reader is going through some difficult time (struggling with mental health, work or "big life decisions", up to you) and he's being very supportive and understanding, offering help as well? ❤️

♡ Life Changes [0.8K]

Charles has always been the epitome of ‘boyfriend material,’ so when it comes to helping you out in any capacity, he is there.

He notices all your patterns; when your quiet, the personality he loves oh-so-much is changed into another. He’d do anything to get his girl back. 

So, one evening, he returns from Maranello, craving to see you after an entire week of not sleeping in the same bed. 

His plan is sorted; he’d stop by at your place, pick you up and take you out for dinner. Maybe takeaway, if you guys got…distracted.  

And yet…he can sense something is off the moment��he steps into your apartment with the spare key you had given him weeks ago.

You don’t come running to the door to greet him with his hug and pepper sweet kisses across his face. You don’t come to the door, full stop. 

He knows you’re in, though. There’s sound coming from the television, some show you’d watched a hundred times; background sound whilst you sat crouched in the living room, papers scattered around you, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

Charles’ heart doesn’t break. It shatters. 

He’s in front of you in an instant, holding your head between his hands, his thumb running across your cheek to remove the tears. 

‘Bébé…hey, hey. Come on. I’m here.’ 

If you’re unable to say anything, he simply pulls you into his chest. His hoodie is soft, it smells of him. You’re unable to hold back the tears now, having been trying to hold it together for so, so long. 

‘I don’t know what to do.’ Your voice sounds so…broken. Charles loves it when you laugh, when you ramble about your favourite things. This…this isn’t you. 

Charles knows what to do. 

Once the tears have subsided, he picks you up, you clinging to him like a koala. 

He carries you into his bedroom, seeing the bed hadn’t been made, dirty laundry everywhere, your room ankle deep in stress. 

Silently, he packs an overnight bag for yourself; Charles has been to your apartment enough to know where everything is. He packs some comfortable clothing, your favourite stuffy, wash things and makeup. 

Then, he reaches out his hand, taking yours in his own and guiding you out of the apartment. 

‘Out of sight, out of mind, yes?’ He confirms with you, locking your front door leading you back to his car. He curses at the forgotten flowers, clumsily leaning over and passing them to you. 

Charles has a new game plan; he books the two of you into a hotel for the evening, bundles you up into one of his hoodies and orders your favourite takeaway. 

He can see how…tired you are. He wants to take that away from you.

Once you’ve eaten, you cuddle into his chest. If you don’t want to say anything, he’ll let you simmer in silence. Otherwise, he’ll let you cry into his chest, sob about everything weighing you down, how you didn’t know what to do next. 

Once it’s out of your system, he brushes your hair out for you, helps you with your skincare and tucks you into his side, hoping you’ll sleep through the next day.

The next morning, his plan springs into action.

Charles books you your favourite form of self-care, whether it be having a manicure, a massage, maybe a hair treatment. He kisses your forehead and sends you on his way. 

Whilst your relaxing, he’s hired a cleaner cleaning out your apartment. Clothing being washed, bed being changed, study things being put away neatly, ready for you to organise when you’re ready.

The last thing he does, is buy a mini whiteboard. We’ll come back to this later. 

He comes to pick you up from your appointment, complimenting you. The smile is slowly returning to your face, looking more and more like his girl again. 

When you get back to your apartment, your heart melts. Charles has a soft smile on his face, seeing the relief of all the tasks you’d neglected completed.

“We’re gonna have a fresh start. We’re gonna get through this together.’

Remember the whiteboard?

Together, you make a game plan. Charles lets your mind wander and ramble freely, making a note each time there’s a significant point about a step you’d like to take. 

You pinpoint each step, and on that whiteboard is a game plan; how you’re going to solve the issue, take your next steps. 

And now there’s a plan? Something to…follow? 

You feel so much more relieved. 

Charles pulls you into his chest, cuddling you so, so tightly, murmuring how proud he is of you for getting through this.

In reality? He’s proud of you every single day. 

☽ [If you have a headcanon/drabble idea, thought or request, feel free to send it here!] ☾