#i am living to see leclerc snap

[matt-murdockk]

lord tests me everyday (i am a ferrari fan)

[jungwnies]

TIKTOK TREND WITH YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : wiping off their kiss every time they kiss you

୨ৎ : genre : fluff, angsty only if you squint ୨ৎ : tws : light kissing, nothing heavy ୨ৎ : word count : 3379

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : so proud of charles getting podium, i am a happy girl 🥲 also i finally added george to the featuring >.<

ʚ・max verstappen

the living room was quiet, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light over the couch. you perched on the edge, setting your phone up on the coffee table, angling it perfectly toward where max would sit. the screen reflected your mischievous grin as you hit record.

the sound of the shower shutting off echoed down the hall, followed by max’s footsteps. he walked in, towel over his shoulder, hair damp and messy.

“what are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

you leaned back casually, fighting a smirk. “nothing. just waiting for you.”

max dropped onto the couch beside you, still toweling his damp hair. without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed your cheek softly. as soon as he pulled away, you casually wiped the spot, pretending to fix your hair.

his brows furrowed. “did you just wipe that off?”

you glanced at him, feigning confusion. “wipe what off?”

“my kiss,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“no, i was just fixing my hair,” you replied, your tone so casual it could’ve won an oscar.

he stared at you for a second but shrugged it off. leaning in again, he kissed your temple this time, holding it for a moment longer before pulling back. you bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a laugh as you wiped it away, pretending to scratch your face.

“okay, now you’re definitely wiping them off,” he said, his tone sharper.

“max, you’re imagining things,” you said, giving him an innocent look.

“i’m not imagining anything!” he shot back, leaning forward with a slight pout. “why are you doing this? did i do something wrong?”

“you’re overthinking it,” you said, brushing off his concern.

he frowned, leaning in for a third kiss, this time planting it on the corner of your mouth. when you wiped that one off too, his mouth dropped open. “seriously? are you mad at me or something? just say it if you are.”

“i’m not mad!” you said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“then why are you being weird?” he snapped, now visibly salty. “do you not want me to kiss you anymore? should i stop?”

you burst out laughing, grabbing your phone off the table and showing him the recording. “baby, it’s a tik-tok trend! i was messing with you!”

his jaw clenched as he realized, then he groaned dramatically, flopping back into the couch. “you’re actually the worst,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

“aww, don’t be mad,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

he huffed, shaking his head. “you're an asshole,” then, with a smirk, he kissed you again and wrapped his arm around you, "but i guess i love you anyways." keeping you locked in place.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the front door clicked open, and you glanced up from the couch to see lewis stepping inside, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. his face looked tired, but he still gave you a soft smile, the kind that made your heart melt every time.

“long day?” you asked, setting your book aside.

“you have no idea,” he said with a sigh, dropping the bag by the door. “flights, media, and a race weekend? i’m ready to collapse.”

“sounds like you need some love,” you teased, patting the seat beside you.

lewis chuckled, kicking off his sneakers before walking over. he plopped down, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“missed you,” he murmured.

you smiled but casually brushed your hand over the spot where he’d kissed, pretending to fix your hair. lewis’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything, instead leaning in to kiss your cheek. when you wiped that off too, his lips parted in disbelief.

“did you just… wipe my kiss off?” he asked, his tone soft but genuinely confused.

“no, i was just adjusting my sweater,” you replied, keeping your face straight.

he tilted his head, watching you carefully now. “right… okay.”

a few moments passed, and lewis leaned in again, this time kissing your jawline. before he could even pull back fully, you wiped it off with a quick swipe of your hand.

“alright, what’s going on?” he asked, sitting up straighter. his voice was still calm, but there was a hint of frustration now. “did i do something wrong?”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“babe, you’re wiping off my kisses!” he said, his brows knitting together. “if you’re mad, just say so.”

“i’m not mad,” you said, trying not to laugh at the utterly baffled look on his face.

lewis leaned back, crossing his arms. “so, what? you don’t like my kisses anymore? should i stop?”

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, grabbing your phone from the coffee table and bursting into laughter. “i was recording the whole thing,” you admit, "it's a tik-tok trend, a hilarious one i must admit, you should've seen your reaction."

he stared at you for a moment, processing, before shaking his head with an exasperated laugh. “you’re unbelievable. you had me thinking i did something wrong!”

“you’re too sweet,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

he smirked, pulling you into his lap. “if this is your idea of fun, just wait. payback’s coming, and it’s gonna be good.”

ʚ・george russell

the room was dim, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp lighting the space as you slid into bed next to george. he was already lying on his side, scrolling through his phone, his hair still slightly damp from his shower. the sheets rustled as you snuggled under the covers, your head resting against the pillow.

“finally, you're here,” he said with a soft smile, turning off his phone and setting it on the nightstand. “i thought you’d be up all night organizing stuff again.”

“you know me too well,” you replied, adjusting the blanket and shifting closer to him.

george chuckled, brushing a lock of hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss your forehead. as soon as he pulled back, you absentmindedly wiped your forehead, pretending to smooth out a strand of hair.

george stopped, his gaze fixed on you, a slight furrow in his brow. “did you just… wipe off my kiss?”

you blinked innocently, tilting your head. “what? no, i didn’t.”

he leaned back, clearly unconvinced, his lips twisting into a half-smirk. “really? that’s how we’re doing this now?”

“doing what?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face.

he raised an eyebrow, glancing at you before brushing it off. “never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head, but he didn’t take his eyes off you as he repositioned himself to get more comfortable in bed.

a moment later, george leaned in again, this time kissing the top of your nose. before he could fully pull back, you reached up and wiped it away, pretending to rub your eyes.

he sat up slightly, blinking in disbelief. “are you serious? again?”

“serious about what?” you asked, turning toward him with a sweet smile.

he let out a slow exhale, clearly trying to process. “you’re wiping off my kisses like it’s nothing. are you trying to tell me something here?”

you shrugged, still maintaining the innocent act. “it’s not like that, george.”

his voice was a little quieter this time, a mix of confusion and playfulness. “okay, now i’m starting to wonder. do you actually not want my kisses or what?”

you quickly reached for your phone, clicking the screen and showing him the recording. “george, it's a tik-tok”

his eyes widened in realization, and he let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “seriously? you’ve been messing with me this whole time?”

“yep,” you said, grinning.

he raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “you're lucky you're cute."

ʚ・carlos sainz

the kitchen was quiet, sunlight spilling through the windows as you sat at the counter, sipping your coffee. carlos was standing by the stove, flipping pancakes with the focus of a man on a mission, but his usual easygoing vibe was still present. he glanced over at you as he set the pan down, a lazy smile forming on his face.

“good morning, cariño,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep, though there was a sparkle in his eyes. “how did you sleep?”

“like a log,” you said, taking a long sip of coffee. “thanks to you keeping me up late last night.”

he laughed, his eyes twinkling as he moved to grab the syrup. “so you admit it? i’m just too irresistible.”

you rolled your eyes, setting your mug down. “not quite. you’re more like a human heater, honestly.”

“ah, a heater with a great smile,” he added, leaning in to kiss your forehead. before he could pull away, you quickly wiped the spot, pretending to adjust your hair.

he froze, standing there for a second with a confused look on his face. “eh? did you just wipe off my kiss?”

you looked up at him innocently, trying to hide your smile. “what? no, I didn’t.”

“no? okay…” he said, his voice now filled with playful suspicion. he raised an eyebrow. “that’s… interesting.”

he took a step back, eyeing you carefully. “so, you don’t want me to kiss you anymore, is that it? too much affection?”

“what are you talking about?” you asked, feigning confusion. “i just didn’t want syrup on my face.”

carlos chuckled, but he leaned in again, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. before he could even fully pull away, you wiped it off again, this time more exaggerated.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back dramatically. “okay, okay, you’re messing with me now, right?”

“no, I’m not,” you said, trying to stifle your laugh. “seriously.”

he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly starting to get annoyed. “are you doing this just to mess with me? i’m here, making pancakes, and you’re wiping off my kisses? do you want to break up or something?”

“what? no!” you exclaimed, trying not to crack a smile. “I swear, I’m not doing anything weird.”

he sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. “you’re making me feel like I’m doing something wrong. why are you wiping my kisses away?”

that was when you couldn’t hold it anymore. you grabbed your phone from the counter, showing him the recording of the whole thing. “carlos, it’s a prank!”

his eyes widened as he watched the footage, then he groaned, dramatically slouching against the counter. “you’re unbelievable. seriously, I’m making my famous fluffy pancakes and this is what I get?”

“you know you love me,” you said, laughing.

he shook his head, rolling his eyes. “fine, fine. but just wait, I’m going to get you back for this one.”

“we’ll see about that,” you teased, reaching for a pancake.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you were curled up on the couch, charles beside you with his arm draped over your shoulders as you both relaxed after a long day. the movie was on, but you weren’t really paying attention. instead, you were watching charles every now and then, his focused expression as he tried to get into the plot. a small, playful thought crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but act on it.

you nudged him lightly, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, but as soon as you pulled back, you wiped it off with exaggerated care, pretending to smooth a stray strand of hair.

charles paused, the film still playing in the background, but he was no longer paying attention to it. he turned to you, a brow raised and a mischievous glint in his eyes. “did you just wipe my kiss off?” he asked, voice a mix of amusement and genuine confusion.

you blinked, acting innocent. “what? no, i didn’t. you must be seeing things, babe.”

he leaned in closer, his smirk growing. “really? because i definitely saw that,” he said, his voice playfully suspicious. "you sure you’re not hiding something?"

“nope,” you replied quickly, your lips twitching with the effort to keep a straight face. “just... adjusting my hair. i have really messy hair, you know?”

“hmm,” he said, squinting at you. “well, i’ll just have to test that theory again, then.”

charles leaned in for another kiss, but this time, he took his time, making sure to press a little longer against your skin. as he pulled away, he looked at you with a smirk, waiting for your reaction.

without hesitation, you wiped your cheek again, this time a little more dramatically, as though he’d just kissed you with a mouthful of chocolate or something.

charles froze, his mouth parting as he tried to process what just happened. “okay, what the hell?” he laughed, his confusion turning into playful disbelief. “now you’re really wiping it off. i swear, if this is some kind of prank…”

“prank?” you asked, feigning innocence. “no, charles, no prank here. just making sure my skin stays clean.”

he let out a deep sigh, shifting so he was facing you fully, his expression a mixture of frustration and laughter. “you’ve got to be kidding me. you’re wiping off my kisses now? i’m feeling personally attacked, mon amour.”

you couldn’t hold back your grin any longer. “oh, charles,” you said, trying not to laugh, “it’s just a little tik-tok, okay? i swear, i love your kisses... just not on my face right now.”

he blinked at you, processing it for a second before it clicked. “wait a minute...” he said, his voice growing mock-serious. “you’ve been messing with me this whole time?”

you nodded, finally letting out a laugh as you grabbed your phone and showed him the video you’d been recording.

charles threw his head back, a laugh escaping as he groaned in exasperation. “you’re impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “here i was thinking i was doing something wrong, and you’re just messing with me for fun.”

“i’m sorry, babe,” you said, still laughing. “but look at that face you made every time i wiped it off! it was too good.”

he shook his head, trying to hide his grin. “i swear, i’m going to get you back for this. but, just so you know, i don’t think i’ll ever kiss you on the cheek again. i might have to kiss you on your hand next time—keep it classy.”

“that’s fine with me,” you teased, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek for real this time, savoring the moment. “as long as it’s real this time, i’ll take anything.”

charles wrapped his arm around you again, pressing his lips to the top of your head with a playful sigh. “you’re impossible.”

“i know,” you replied, grinning. “and you love it.”

ʚ・lando norris

you were getting ready to leave the room, heading for the door to grab something. lando, in the middle of streaming, noticed you getting up and paused his game.

“hey, where are you going?” he asked with a playful grin.

“just to grab my jacket,” you replied, already halfway to the door.

he leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before you left, but as soon as his lips touched your skin, you wiped your cheek with your hand in one swift motion, acting like it was no big deal.

lando pulled back, his expression frozen for a moment. “wait... what?”

you turned to him with wide eyes, completely innocent. “what? i didn’t wipe anything off.”

“you definitely just wiped off my kiss,” he said, his voice laced with confusion.

you shrugged, still acting nonchalant. “nah, you’re imagining things.”

lando squinted at you, his head tilting in that way he does when he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. “seriously? i gave you a kiss, and you wiped it off like... like i’ve got bad breath or something?”

“i didn’t wipe it off,” you said, barely holding in your grin. “you’re being dramatic.”

“no, no,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “i’m pretty sure you just wiped it off. i know i kissed you, and i know it’s gone now.”

you pretended to look at the floor, trying to look innocent. “you must be tired, love. maybe you imagined it?”

he paused for a moment, trying to make sense of it, but after a beat, he shrugged it off and went back to his game. you turned to leave again, and he kissed you once more on the cheek, this time giving you a teasing smile.

before you even gave him a chance to pull away, you wiped the kiss off again—this time with even more dramatic flair, rubbing your hand over your cheek like it was covered in dirt.

“okay, that’s it!” he said, pausing his game once again. “you’re messing with me. why are you wiping off my kisses? what’s going on?”

you couldn’t help it anymore and pulled out your phone to show him the tiktok trend. “you’ve been pranked.”

his eyes went wide for a second, before bursting into laughter. “oh my god, i can’t believe i fell for that!”

you smiled smugly. “what can i say? i’m just that good.”

“next time, i’m getting you back for this one,” he said, still laughing.

meanwhile, his twitch chat was going wild. "lando, how did you not realize this was the tiktok trend?" one viewer typed.

“i swear, i thought i was being tricked by my own girlfriend!” lando chuckled, shaking his head at the screen. "chat's right though, i should've known better."

ʚ・oscar piastri

you and oscar were lounging on the couch, the tv flickering quietly in the background, but neither of you were really watching it. the evening had that lazy, easy vibe where you didn’t need to talk much, just enjoying each other's presence.

oscar was scrolling through his phone, chuckling at something he’d seen. you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, but at the last second, he turned his head, and your lips landed right on his.

“wait, what was that?” he grinned, pulling back slightly. “since when did you get so affectionate all of a sudden?”

you shrugged, playing it cool. “what can i say, love? just felt like it.”

he narrowed his eyes at you, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “hmm, you sure you’re not up to something?”

you raised an eyebrow, acting casual. “nope, just a kiss. no hidden agenda.”

“right,” he said, clearly unconvinced, before leaning in for another kiss. but this time, just before his lips met yours, you quickly wiped your cheek with your hand, like you were brushing something off.

oscar froze, staring at you like you’d just sprouted another head. “wait, did you just—? did you just wipe off my kiss?”

you turned to him with wide eyes, trying to look innocent. “huh? no, i didn’t. you’re imagining things.”

“no, i saw it,” he said, sitting up a little straighter, a grin now playing on his face. “you literally wiped it off like i’ve got something on my face.”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “maybe you do. you never know.”

oscar stared at you for a moment, his grin slipping into mock offense. “so, now i’ve got bad kisses, huh?”

“no, no,” you said, trying not to laugh. “just… you know. maybe a little extra today.”

“extra?” he repeated, leaning in with a suspicious look on his face. “alright, this is definitely a prank. i can tell.”

you bit your lip, fighting the smile that was threatening to break out. “who, me? never.”

“don’t lie,” he said, crossing his arms. “this is 100% a prank. i'm being pranked, aren't i?”

before you could answer, oscar leaned in again, and this time, when he kissed you, he pulled away slowly, rubbing his cheek like he was wiping something off, complete with an exaggerated motion. “is that better?” he asked, grinning ear to ear. “did i nail it?”

you burst into laughter, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you caught me! it's the stupid tik-tok trend.”

oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “you can’t fool me. but, i’ll be getting you back for this one.”

“you can try." you teased.

“oh, we’ll see about that,” he said, leaning in for another kiss, this time making sure you didn’t wipe it off. “but this one stays, just so you know.”

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[bonbonly]

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: let her taste the fires of hell, or let her be mine and mine alone! - the young chaplain, charles leclerc, cannot control his desires when the very object of sin crosses his path: you. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you are not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following: noncon/dubcon, slapping/flogging, forced breeding, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, carving, overstimming/edging, bondage, kidnapping 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on the hunchback of notre dame and hilda furacao! also guys... read the second part: You're My Religion

chaplain!charles waited impatiently at the front doors of the cathedral. his brow arched at the bell ringers who passed by him to attend to the younger chaplains. he bit the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes at father gasly who had just received a basket of bread and eggs, enough to share for two; however, father gasly had already promised father ocon the week before that when the bell ringer delivered the next basket of groceries, he would share 30% of the goods with him. that left 60%, and charles had made it very clear that would only have 50% of the basket, never 30%. he would never settle for less, no matter the circumstances. his head snapped back to face the street at the edge of the staircase down below, eyes searching for his specific bell ringer. the items he had listed were very simple: bread, cheese and a pint of milk. yet, the imbecile - as charles would put it - made it seem as if the young chaplain had asked for the finest meal in all of the country. he saw the boy run up the staircase, panting heavily,

"forgive me, father leclerc," the boy heaved, struggling to catch his breath. he thrusted the basket into the hands of the chaplain, "i believe i've bought everything that you asked for."

charles peered into the basket, frowning when he noticed only the bread and milk. the cheese was not present. he glared at the young boy, eyes shifting to the sky as he inhaled, sharply, "lord, grant me the strength to not strike this young lad for his incompetence," his eyes traveled down to the boy once more, "where is the cheese?"

"w-what? i swear the lady in the market gave it to me!" he cried out, burying his head inside the basket. charles pushed his head away as the boy continued to rant, "i swear she did! i even paid for it with the alms that were given to you, father leclerc! she put something inside along with the bread and milk, i am sure of it!" he watched charles shift through the basket once more, his nimble fingers pushing the slices of bread around when he noticed a thinly shaped parchment tucked between two slices. he pulled it out, flipping it around to see that it was folded into four pieces and he tossed the basket to the boy before opening the paper.

"god is a lie, tell your beloved peasants residing in the church that their foolish words shall no longer have appeal, so long as i live!"

charles crumpled the paper and tossed it down the stairs, a snarl on his lips as he glared at the boy, "who gave you this basket? who would dare write such heresy to be given to the devotees of god here?"

"i-i do not know! maybe the baskets were switched!" the boy reasoned, and charles yanked the basket from his hand and stormed into the cathedral, barking at the other men that blocked his path towards his cell. he was stopped quite shortly by father bozzi who beckoned him towards the main altar,

"father leclerc, you are causing quite the storm today," he commented, instantly raising a finger to silence charles' arguable words. he brought a hand over the younger man's shoulder, guiding him to stand right before the holy cross, hung gloriously above for all to see. the light from the glass windows shifted towards the cross, as if god himself was asking of charles to redirect his attention back to the being that expected better of him. he swallowed, thickly, taking in a deep breath as he closed his eyes, letting the still air of the cathedral silence his restless mind. "you must learn to control your emotions. it is bad to let your tongue slither around, you must hold it as you must your anger. you are to set an example to the other chaplains. in a month, you shall become a chapter priest. i have put good word for you to archdeacon vasseur, he cares for you tremendously, you are practically his son!"

the golden child of the cathedral, charles knew what his situation was. yet the pressure of it all, to be better than the others, to see to it that one day he would be the archdeacon. it was all too much for him to handle, to understand the expectations. his heart swelled at the praise, but the nagging sensation of what he had read from the parchment continued to persist and he let his eyes fall to the holy cross once more, "with such a divine presence in our lives, it irks me that there is someone amongst our town preaching heresy to the people."

"heresy? are you sure, father leclerc?" father bozzi furrowed his brows, leaning in closer to ensure the commonfolk around them would not be able to eavesdrop. charles jerked his head to guide them both to a corner before whispering into the man's ear,

"i am positive. one of the bell ringers came to me with my basket of bread and milk and inside was found a parchment that emphasized how god is a lie," charles noticed the way father bozzi's hands flung to his ears, deafening himself to such disgusting words. he shook his head, crossing himself before turning to father leclerc,

"heresy is condemned here. it is imperative to find the man that is behind all this and have him burned at the stake for such insolence. i shall have a word with the archdeacon very soon, father leclerc. as of now, the archdeacon wished for me to tell you that a local hospital is in need of some divine intervention. the archdeacon wants you to go see if you can save the poor souls before he passes away." father bozzi took a step backwards, bowing his head before departing to his cell.

as per archdeacon vasseur's command, charles took his small, worn-out copy of his bible which was a testament to how devoted he was to the catholic church and his rosary, his fingers toying with the beads as he departed down the large staircase out of the cathedral. his foot kicked up the crumpled paper from earlier, and he scowled as his foot stomped it further into the dusty ground before walking off as if nothing had transpired. the hospital was quite the distance, and as he continued to walk he decided to utter a few bible verses to relax his mind. father bozzi was right, he had to control his mind and thereby his tongue. he could not let his emotions flood him, nor could he illicit such hurtful remarks to those that upset him. he had to keep himself in check, and he prayed that the holy father would guide him through the dark, treacherous path of the mortal world. as he turned the corner, he noticed a small, run-down stall of necessities and in front, leaning against the edge was you with your head thrown back, eyes closed as you basked in the sunlight. charles gazed at you in confusion, unsure as to why you were not behind the stall when a large crowd of men pushed past him to gather around your enchanting frame.

"well, well, well... frederick, i expect the usual?" you cooed, running a hand through your hair before letting it glide down your neck to rest on your scantily covered bosom. the man, frederick, let out a hearty laugh, moving to stand besides you as he picked up a pint of milk, tossing you some coins before gulping the liquid down. he let some of it splash onto the top of your breasts, and you squealed at the sensation, swiping the droplets with your forefinger before gliding it into your mouth for a taste. the men around you sighed, dreamily, at your action and as your eyes traveled around the crowd, it fell onto charles who snarled at the sight of debauchery happening in front of him. this was why he hated stepping out of the cathedral, there was so much sin lurking around. he averted his eyes elsewhere, realizing that he had overstood his time in front of your stall and trudged forward, muttering at how lust destroys humans, how it easily corrupts the innocent. he gave you one more glance, and unknowingly, his eyes drifted down your neck to the fullness of your tits, watching the way they bounced as you jumped, clapping your hands at the sight of some man making a fool out of himself just for your entertainment. his gaze roamed down to the way your ass curved against your skirt, sticking out for any man to grab. his eyes snapped down to see his hand reach out into the open air and he took a step back in horror at his own action. you had to be a witch, tempting him into sin! he growled under his breath, storming off to his duty.

you were waiting for him at your stall when he returned, drumming your fingers against the makeshift wooden table as he passed by you with the same scowl on his lips.

"father leclerc!" you stood up, and then you clapped your hands to grab his attention. sensing that he would not stop, you rolled your eyes and hollered, "charles!" the smirk that was on your face was quickly replaced with fear as he charged towards you, slamming his bible down.

"comment osez-vous !" he shouted, watching you cower onto the wall behind your stall, "how dare you address me by my name, you insolent wench! a god fearing woman such as yourself should know better than to..." his words are silenced at the sight of the slightest sliver of parchment poking from underneath the fabric, the raised hand falling down to his side as his eyes flashed in anger. he bit his tongue, remembering the words of father bozzi, "what have you called me for, young woman?"

"i was wondering if you liked your basket of goods this morning," you forced a smile, darting your tongue out to wet your lips, and charles' anger grew once more, but so did a different feeling. those lips of yours, he craved it. he sighed out loud, wanting to open a verse of the bible to school you when his eyes stopped at your barely-covered breast, the parchment hiding in the corner mocking him. his hand delved onto your tits, roughly groping away as you gasped out loud at the sudden intrusion, feeling his fingers roll against your hardening nipples. he roughly yanked out the stash of parchment, tilting his head up to reform your beliefs when in a second, his head snapped to the side as a burning sensation bloomed onto his left cheek. his eyes peered to the sight of you rubbing your sore knuckles, having backhanded him across his face.

"even a man of your supposed god is not free from sin," you whispered, and just as he was about to smash your head with the milk pints, father gasly had walked over to his friend with a smile that continued to die down with each step that he took.

"what has happened here, ami?" he questioned, staring between charles and you. when receiving no answer, he frowned and draped an arm around his friend, turning him around to head back to the cathedral. you were biting your lip in frustration at the fact that your parchments were seized by charles, and even worse, the sight of his dark glare boring into your soul pressed you to find shelter soon for your own safety. charles was bound to inform the church, and while the idea of burning at the stake was gruesome, you believed that death was not one you should fear, but one you should accept.

however, charles did not inform the other fathers about his discovery. nor did he go to confess his sin of having wrongfully touched a woman. in his mind, if he told the other fathers about his discovery, they would ask how he obtained it. he could never lie in front of them, and if he told them the truth, they would be horrified. and then, if he confessed his sin, father sainz would be considered for chapter priest over him. he could not risk such a move. he had to be quiet, but the turmoil swirling inside him forced him to his knees, hands crossed as the rosary dangled from his fingers. he couldn't shake the image of your round tits, the warmth that he felt on his fingers. to be near a woman, to be even able to touch her. he ran his hands over his face, hoping that your intoxicating scent was still alive on his fingers. he glanced up to the holy cross he had perched on the wall, mouth running dry. he glanced over to the pint of milk he had received from you earlier, placed right next to stash of your written poster of heresy. lost in a daze, he scrambled over to unscrew the milk and he remembered the sight of the man pouring it over your breasts, how you licked a stripe of the liquid from your delicate finger. he was drowning in the thought of you, unable to withstand the temptation of sin. he was cursed with having always letting his emotions get the best of him, but this was not an emotion. it was an obsession. he took a sip of the milk, savoring its taste before pouring it down his head, his tongue - now let loose - lapping at the liquid as it trailed downwards, spilling onto the floor. his face covered in your milk, and he envisioned it as it truly being your milk which only made him yearn for you more. he grabbed the stash of parchments, unfolding and placing them onto his face as if they were napkins, the paper soaking up the milk droplets. the warmth of your skin was still imprinted onto the paper, he could smell you off of them. he groaned out loud, wishing his hands were not bound from the constraints of his duty as a servant of god, to be able to bury his face in those tits of yours to sing praises of you out loud. another needy moan escaped his lips, and he pulled the papers off him to see your heretic cries, your hurdled insults. each page a different set of twisted words targeting his church, his people, his beliefs. the bitch had tricked him, she had ruined his once pure mind. he crawled over to the wall frantically, glancing up to see the cross once more as he begged for forgiveness.

he begged, and begged, and continued to beg as tears fell from his eyes, his cheeks all rosy from the woeful tunes he sang. you had destroyed him, changed him. he was meant to be chapter priest in a month, and would soon lead an enviable life. no, no, no, how could you do this to him? you, of all people, a heretic! he sobbed once more, clutching the rosary to his chest as he asked the holy father to pardon him.

"forgive me! punish me but please forgive me!" he cried out, arms outstretched into the air as he kneeled in front of the wall. his chest heaved with each sob that bellowed from his gut. he believed his prayers to fall onto deaf ears, and for penance, he decided to starve himself. no eggs, no bread, no cheese and definitely no milk. he would switch to eating soup even worse to punish himself. perhaps if he did so, he would be forgiven, he would be seen as the ideal role model that he always was. the golden child, the one that was meant to carry the legacy of archdeacon vasseur, to restore glory to the catholic church. most importantly, he would be the one to make sure you pay for tempting to him to sin.

the well-awaited carnival took place in the center of town, a spectacle to behold. the dancers, the food, the jesters, the royal family making an appearance because they loved to take part in the lives of their people. the chaplains had returned to their cells after prayer, their ears stirring at the music that floated through the halls of the cathedral. charles was sipping his bowl of soup, its contents pitiful, when he received word from father gasly that he was to go outside and convince the people to attend mass tomorrow and in order to do so, they must put an end to the carnival. charles grimaced, despising the thought of having to step out of the cathedral once more. he loved to stay inside, loved to sit in his cell and recite the verses that he memorized with such love and adoration. the thought of having to step foot into a place of sin, the thought of you possible being there. it disgusted him.

yet, duties had to be done and he once again found himself with his bible and rosary in hand, watching the village folk run around, laughing with rum in their hands. he snarled, electing to sit beside the king who had beckoned him over with a welcoming hand. you'll enjoy the festivities, you'll feel welcome, the villagers always love to celebrate every good event, the king rambled and charles tuned him out, still holding to his belief that this place was an extension of hell. he was just about ready to excuse himself when he saw you sauntering up to the center of the stage, an outfit that made him part his lips with a dazed expression. your shirt hung loose off your shoulders, the corset tightening your waist which pushed your tits upward as you grabbed hold of your skirt and began to dance, seductively. some of the men from below the stage hopped on to join you, twirling you around while skipping to and fro. your eyes were fixated on charles, calling to him like the siren that you were. he averted his eyes, his grip tightening around his rosary as he saw you approaching the royal family. you curtsied, bowing your head and offered a rose to the princess who beamed in joy at such a simple act. their joy was short-lived when they saw you stalk over to charles, curtsying enough for him to glance at your cleavage, before standing up abruptly. a tease, a temptation, a witch. quite suddenly, you grabbed onto his rosary and wrapped it around his neck, pulling him close to your face as your lips brushed against his nose.

"your tricks won't work on me, satan," charles whispered, breathlessly. his words spoke one story, while his eyes told another. you smirked at his reaction, shaking your head,

"and yet you fall every single time, father, strange isn't it?"

when you pulled away, you let his rosary hit the ground as you went back to dancing. the king laughed out loud, commenting that this must be the chaplain's first interaction with a woman in his entire life but charles wasn't focused on that. he was focused on his cracked rosary, now shaped like a jagged knife. if he had it his way, he would bend you over in front of everyone and show the entire village how much of a whore you were. you would be screaming for mercy, begging him to let you go, and all he would do is laugh. heretics never deserved mercy. they didn't believe in the holy father that would grant them such mercy, so why should he? charles' jaw clenched at the thought, and he stood up and departed the carnival with lust clouding his thoughts.

it was late at night, the chaplains were back in their cells fast asleep before sunday mass. yet, charles was out searching through the streets for something... else. he couldn't hold his desires anymore, he couldn't control his thoughts. your power over him, it was revolting! and the only way to relieve his struggles, was to let it out on some prostitute that would throw herself at him. he remembered when he had been very young how father vettel - who was later kicked out of the cathedral - had been secretly seeing woman for his own pleasure. charles had seen a woman on her knees in the confession booth, her lips wrapped around father vettel's member as he groaned out loud, hips snapping to meet her lips. charles remembered witnessing the sinful exchange and being tempted to try it out on his own. it took weeks of penance to cleanse his mind after, but he feared that in his present day, it was impossible now. nothing could make him forget you. he stopped in front of a small hut, a dull candle shining through the broken window as he pushed the door open to see a prostitute fast asleep on her bed. he shut the door behind him, bringing the cloak down before towering over her sleeping form.

she deserved no kindness, her job itself was that of impurity. he set his cloak on her small table, beginning to undress. the shifting of clothes and jewelry caused her to stir in her sleep and when she opened her eyes groggily, a hand clasped around her mouth as the bed dipped at the additional weight of charles climbing in.

"not a word from you. i shall pay you a handsome sum if you do your job," he hissed, yanking her top down to expose her breasts. his hands came forward to softly knead the flesh, her gasps spurring him on as he began to squeeze, pinching her nipples harshly as she let out a cry in pain.

"father l-lec-"

"no!" he slapped her across her face, remembering when you had done the same to him. it boiled his blood that you would dare raise your hand at him, and he sucked his teeth, "you call me charles. i want to hear you say charles."

she whimpered, nodding her head as he lowered his face onto her tits, burying his face between them as he groaned out loud. they were so soft, so warm and beautiful and he ran his tongue over her hardened peaks, flicking them around before beginning to suck. she moaned, quietly, arching into him further as he wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her closer. whoever this whore was, she was going limp in his arms as he continued to maul at her tits, marking her. his lips trailed up to her neck, biting on her skin harshly as he pulled away to stare at her, "i'll need your help. i'm quite inexperienced in... such... acts of intimacy, but i need it to relieve my anger."

"i can gladly help you father..." she paused, noticing the way his eyes narrowed at her and she gulped, before responding "charles." she let her finger trail down the side of his face, but he caught hold of her hand and scoffed,

"don't... touch me, she wouldn't be able to anyway," he ignored the way the woman frowned at his words, not following along but as long as she paid him, she was happy to fulfill whatever he asked for.

it was hours later when charles exited the hut, glancing through the window to see the woman completely passed out on the bed, not an ounce of fabric covering her form. he smirked to himself, bringing the hood of his cloak closer to mask his identity. he was walking down the street when he saw you, standing there with a disgusted expression on your face.

"for a man of god, you commit every sin in the world and yet you are pardoned. how would the church feel knowing what you have done? with a prostitute?" you questioned, which only darkened his eyes as he walked over to where you stood.

"prostitutes are necessary evils, they help control a common man's lust," he replied.

"common man? or every man? you clearly couldn't control your lust. did you see her at mass? is there an affair taking place?" you snapped, circling around him and he laughed, a dark rich laugh as he took off his hood to stare directly into your eyes.

"you witch, you would know. if i had never seen you, my path would've stayed the same. but you... you!" he thrust his finger into your face, before wrapping his hand around your throat, "you disgusting whore, you've ruined me. you've destroyed everything i spent years working on! that prostitute was only meant to substitute you!"

he let his hand trail down to your arm, placing it behind you as he spun you around so that your back touched his chest. he inhaled the scent of your hair, murmuring praises as his lips danced down your neck. he stretched your shirt to expose your shoulder, the very one he saw in carnival earlier in the day and sunk his teeth, clamping your mouth shut to silence your screams. it was music to his ears. wriggling out of his grasps, you grabbed the rosary from his pockets and swung it at him. he groaned in pain, feeling a gash on his forehead as blood trickled down. when his eyes snapped upwards, he saw your form running away from him and he clutched onto the fallen rosary, seething in rage that you managed to escape him once again. mass would start in a couple hours, and he would pray to the holy father to let him have you, let him punish you for your wrongdoings and teach you how to behave.

charles was always gifted with music. it was one of his defining skills, and he was allowed to play the grand organ during mass. he finished his last drop of soup, shuddering at the foul taste that he created to punish himself and sank down on the cushioned stool, cracking his knuckles. he glanced down at his fingers, remembering the way they were knuckle-deep in the prostitute's cunt, the squelching of her juices as he kept thrusting them into her, his other hand rubbing her clit as she whimpered, telling him it was too much. he remembered slapping her, telling her to hold her tongue as he continued to work her to her climax. he curled his fingers inside her, watching her legs shake as they involuntarily spread further. he twisted his fingers inside her, her clit puffy from the way his thumb massaged it with fervor. her juices splattered onto him, and the wave of realization washed over him as his fingers delicately brushed against the keys. the buttons of music. he pushed them around, his eyes drifting to the ceiling of the cathedral as he played the first few chords he was accustomed to. the calling from god, the spirit that let his gospel be spread for the underprivileged that saw him as their savior. archdeacon vasseur was below near the main altar, welcoming in the devout christians that were attending mass. the organs above, the gold decorations shining in the light. they were curved, mesmerizing. they were you. he swore he saw you in the reflection of the organ, laughing and mocking him. berating, ridiculing, insulting, spitting at him. he felt an invisible force press down on the gash on his forehead, and he hissed as he stiffened, feeling the light above call out to him but the dark temptation pulling him back down.

unaware that the sermon had commenced below, charles smashed his fingers onto the organ, letting his emotions run wild as the chords become darker, more desperate. it was the call of a siren, the lustful whines of the devil that would not let him go. it wasn't his fault, it was never his fault! how could he resist you? the wench who had powers far greater than that of any man, it was hard! he was still young, still had much to learn and he screamed out loud as he felt his heart being torn to pieces, fingers still playing the ominous tune on the grand organ. it wasn't until father sainz and father gasly physically lifted and dragged charles away did his vision begin to clear, and he realized his mistake. no, he'd let archdeacon vasseur down. he made a fool of himself in front of everyone, he'd use his talent to procure something so evil! his despair was heightened when he was placed back in his cell to reflect and seek god to save his troubled soul as he sobbed in his bed, feeling like a disappointment. his tears cascaded down his cheeks, eyes searching for the holy father to lift him to heaven! he could not spend another second in this mortal world, as long as you lived. the parchment paper stash was on his desk, and he scowled at the sight of it, ripping it to shreds before exiting his cell and taking it to the fireplace just outside in the hallway. he tossed the pieces of paper inside, watching the way the small embers of the fire flickered and danced around, its orange tint glowing against the darkness surrounding it. The flame grew, spreading across the small piece of paper, the edges turning from a stark white to a dull charcoal. The visual haunted him, the flames reminding him of your hair, of your burning eyes, that desire that is eating him from inside. he needed you, he needed to have you in his arms. the smoke that emitted from the burnt papers swept over to him and he extended his arms, swiping at them to see if he could hold onto to it. when met with the air of his sins, he stared at the fire with tears in his eyes.

"elle sera à moi" he whispered underneath his breath, dousing the flames with the pot of water beside the fireplace.

the marketplace was rather quiet the very next morning. the men who would come in to have a chat with you found your stall empty, as if you had just left the entire town on short notice. the truth was, these men weren't lusting after you or trying to get a new deal. they were all part of your secret organization to preach athiesm. it was only a few of them anyway, and the trick with frederick a few days ago was part of your plan to gain the attention of a chaplain, any chaplain really, so that they could see god could not control every individual, their mind will wander and it's up to them to help each other to be better, not an invisible force. none of them would have predicted that the chaplain they strung the net for happened to be the worst one in the church. your presence missing sent fear in them, wondering if they would be hunted after by the catholic church for participating in these illegal activities. your friends assumed you to be dead, so did your poor, old parents and any of the bell ringers who brought their groceries from you.

"you should be grateful, mon diablesse," charles' words echoed through the empty corridor, his footsteps approaching your frame, "i could've easily turned you in, had you burned at the stake, stoned to death, flogged beyond recognition."

"death would be liberating," you spat at his face, the glob of saliva hitting the cut on his forehead and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, snarling at you, "you think you're so smart, so witty..." he paused, crouching down to face you directly, "so beautiful..." his knuckles brushed against your cheek tenderly, watching the way you recoiled under his touch, pulling your head far back as you could under the confines of rope that bound you to the corner. he had set fire to your house the night before, and when you fled out you had fallen right into his arms. your anguished screams infiltrated the cold, dead night and he grabbed a cane laying on the road to pummel against the back of your head. your body slipped into unconsciousness, and he carried you in his arms through the back of his cathedral. each step that he took up the staircase, his eyes watched your limp form, your tits brushing against his cloak, your hands hanging with your head thrown back, eyes closed as if you were in bliss. at the top of the staircase, he could see the holy cross from the opposite end of the cathedral, the light dimming, almost leaving him. he frowned, turning back to face you in his arms, "the devil is here, she shall be here until the holy father guides her to a righteous path, and then she shall be mine..."

his lips peppered kisses along your face, hovering over your lips before he let them envelop around yours. the softness of your lips, the way they warmed them. he could not resist the temptation any longer, he needed find a way to merge into you, to live inside you and have all this to himself. no one would ever touch you, speak to you or even look at you. you were his, all his.

your bounds were humiliating, having wrapped around your arms and legs and specifically around your tits to plump them up. they hurt at times, especially when charles would tug on the confines before slapping your tits, watching the way they were swollen and slightly purple from the lack of circulation. your arms were bound above your head, legs anchored to some weights that charles had found in father sainz's cell the other day. you would not escape him, you would not escape your destiny to understand the glory of god. this was your punishment for heresy, charles would see to it that he taught you everything, that you would understand why he was doing this. because he cared for you! he hadn't done anything to hurt you, yet. he was just fascinated, treating you like a child as he would spend hours every day reading the bible to you and explaining god's love for all beings, and strangely enough day by day, it almost felt as if the god he was referring to was him. your eyes should be on him, hands in prayer for him. not god, no charles should be your god. his desire for you was so strong, he selfishly assumed that even god shouldn't be able to cherish his finest creation: you. yes, you were broken and needed guidance, but perhaps thats why god created you! he wanted to spend extra time with you, and charles hated the thought of you with anyone other than him.

he had a flog in his hands, and every time your eyes would droop or you'd turn your head away, he'd instantly flog your tits harshly and grab your jaw, forcing you to look at him. not a fleck of dust deserved your attention. you'd whimper, feeling pain course through your blood as you tried not to cry. you knew you were stronger than this, that you could hold it out and find a way to escape. even if you wanted to grab the attention of the bell ringers, they'd know you as the girl who died. if you came back, they'd accuse you of being a witch and your death would be imminent. charles planned this all out, and you could tell with the way he looked at you that he never wanted you to ever leave him. on days when you would listen obediently, even asking questions for further explanations, he would reward you by loosening the bounds just a bit to let you breath better and he suck on your tits, rolling your nipples around as he watched you whine against his lips, growing needier as the days passed. you were becoming more reliant on him, the fraction of pleasure you would feel consuming your thoughts. you would recite verses and summarize what you learned just for him to reward you, to let you relax your sore limbs and the praise he gave you would go straight to your core.

"mon ange, you are doing so good," he cooed, kissing your cheek as his thumb ran along your bottom lip.

"chérie, look at you, all beautiful and basking in the light as the lord's prettiest creation," he stuck his finger into your mouth, watching you obediently begin sucking just like he had taught you the other day, eyes all wide and eager to worship him. he had you right where he wanted, devout to him so he could bless you with whatever you wanted. but, he should've known that your stubbornness was far greater than his love for god. in fact, it helped you clear your mind one day when you realized that you were acting like a cheap whore for him. you were better than this, stronger than this! you needed to escape, your mind was being twisted by him. after a very frustrating day where he was lectured by archdeacon vasseur about controlling his anger, he stormed to the hidden room to find you to help control his emotions. only to find you out of the confines with a stone rock that you had sharpened secretly, trying to climb through the window.

"espèce de fille insolente!" charles roared, yanking you by your hair as he tossed you to the stone floor. you groaned loudly in pain, your body still sore from having spent days bound like a present for him. he flipped you to your back, a hand on your throat as he brought you up, "how foolish i am to have thought that you were learning, that you were behaving well for me!"

"sometimes the lust clouds one's mind and some can escape, others such as yourself rot in it and becomes the very monster they sought to kill!" you hissed, and he tightened his grasp, watching you squirm, gasping for air. he lets go of you, letting your head hit the floor as he stands up and begins to undress.

"i was trying to be nice, so nice to you. i thought the devil had left you, it seems she is back and more dangerous than ever!" he tossed his belongings behind him and grabbed hold of the rope, pulling your hands to him as he began to wrap it around. he ignored your pleas, your whines at how your wrists were sore, how you would rather die than have to deal with this again and he slapped you across the face, silencing you instantly, "i should've done this the day i met you."

he fished through his discarded cloak for the broken rosary, letting it sway in front of your eyes. you gulped when you saw the jagged, sharp end. He let the broken rosary trail down from your lips to right between your breasts, and he licked his lips. slowly, he began to etch a cross into your soft, tender flesh. each line was precise, each stroke deliberate. he ignored the way tears fell from your eyes, trying your best not to scream in pain as his eyes watched the blood seep from your skin. as he carved, he leaned down and began to lap at the small beads of blood that welled up in the wake of the knife. his eyes never left yours, boring into your soul with deranged intensity. his tongue drifted down to your cunt, and he spit onto it, letting his tongue flatten on your clit before he began to move. thank god for that prostitute one night, she taught him so much. he bit down on your folds, flicking your clit around. his tongue delved into your inner walls, watching you arch your back as you cried louder, trying to push him off you but he quickly grabbed hold of your wrists, preventing you from leaving as he drank your delicious juice. he tilted his head upwards, your arousal glistening against his chin,

"if you want my forgiveness, recite to me one... at least one thing i taught you." he whispered, and you bucked your hips upwards,

"never. you are the very spawn of satan!" you hissed, which earned you a harsh slap on your clit, causing you to whine out loud. he bit the inside of his cheek, furiously rubbing your sensitive nub, your song of lust echoing through the cathedral as you cummed for the first time of the day. his thumb did not stop, instead he kept going faster while adding two fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them inside as you squealed at the oversensitivity.

"say one... say one verse," he spat, "one verse, putain."

"n-no!" you moaned, still feeling the burn of your skin from where he carved the cross on you. you would not give in, you would not let him take control of you again like he did last time. you knew better than this, you were one of the smartest women in the town before this monster took you. his fingers were relentless, scissoring into your cunt as you screamed, lost in the fog of your mind as you kept cumming and cumming around his fingers.

"say that im your god, say that you will only ever worship me, i am your savior, your idol, say it!" charles pulled his fingers away right when you were on the brink of another orgasm, and you let out a guttural scream, sobbing as your hips began to grind the air, searching for your lost release. you couldn't anymore, you couldn't hold back.

"y-you're my god... my savior... my idol," you whispered between whimpers, and a satisfied chuckle escaped his lips. he nodded his head before folding you into a mating press. your sore body was complying with his requests, your mind pounding as he hoisted your legs up to rest against his shoulders. his eyes hungrily soaked up the sight of the bleeding cross on the valley of your tits, and he rolled your nipples around, knowing how sensitive you were. this was the day he was waiting for, this was the day where he could finally claim you as his. he gave the shaft his throbbing cock a couple pumps, before sliding into you with a small moan escaping his lips.

"putain, tu te sens si bien," he whispered, rocking his hips against yours as you mewled out loud. he laughed at the sight of you, disheveled and worn out. even the devil could not be perfect at all times. he felt powerful, having tamed the devil and being the one whose cock was splitting you open. his thrusts became faster, your sobs becoming louder as he took what he believed to be rightfully his. he groped your tits, remembering his fascination with them when he first met you and leaned closed to latch his lips onto them again. the lewd sounds made you snap your head to the side, surprisingly feeling yourself growing wetter at the squelching of his cock inside your dripping pussy. "mon ange, the only way you will ever learn, the only way you will be mine forever is if you embrace what the holy father planned for your kind. bearing children and fearing him."

your glossy eyes flickered to him, a hint of fear at his words and he began to thrust harshly into you, your tits swaying as he began to pick up his pace once more, "a child will put you in your place. you will learn then. your tits will be swollen with milk, oh the thought of it...."

he leaned forward to bite down on your nipples, before sucking them and releasing them with a pop! "your belly will carry my child, and they will follow the virtuous path offered to them, not the words of a heretic who spreads her legs for a lustful man, no this is the union between two devotees in love with the creation of god." he pulled away to kiss your feet, running his tongue over your ankle as you moaned out loud, begging him to go deeper. you could feel your orgasm approaching, your mind telling you that this was wrong but you couldn't resist anymore. he let one of your wrap around his waist, letting his cock dig into your further. his finger brushed against the carved cross, applying pressure at some corners and the pain mingled with the pleasure, finally pushing you past the edge. your screams flooded the empty corridor as you squirted your release all over his relentless cock. he continued to thrust into you, letting your ride your waves of pleasure and with a soft whimper, his cock shot ropes of his cum in your walls. he continued to fuck you, hands on your hips as he wanted nothing to go to waste. when he pulled out, he stuffed his fingers into you, ignoring your wail at how sensitive you were. he was panting, making sure nothing leaked out of you. you would bear his child, you would denounce your heretic practices, you would stay with him forever and love god. you will worship him, and him alone.

the corridor is locked when he leaves, your body placed near a small fire-place as you slept. he draped you in his cloak for warmth, kissing your cheek lovingly before whispering how beautiful you would be as the mother to his children. when he returned downstairs, he was stopped by father bozzi and archdeacon vasseur who smiled at him, proudly.

"father leclerc, your virtuous path has inspired so many, we are seeing new people attend mass! it could not have been done with you," father bozzi grinned. both pair of eyes gazed at the archdeacon who clasped his hand on charles' shoulder,

"father leclerc, tomorrow is your ceremony to become chapter priest. and you will also receive the monsignor title!" archdeacon vassuer announced, and charles smiled, thanking for the honor.

charles stood in front of the altar, staring at the holy cross. he clasped his hands in prayer, smiling as he closed his eyes. he was being rewarded by the holy father for his good penance. he would stop eating soup, and eat good food again. he was being rewarded for his successful missionaries, for having converted previous non-believers into believers.

and most importantly, for having tamed the tempting devil.

[itsprashimusic]

Monaco and Monza

Summary - Charles, his favourite person (and their puppy) before, during and after the most important race wins of his life.

Pairings - Charles Leclerc x fem!Reader

Warnings - no use of y/n, google translate French and Italian, r can make decent conversation in French and Italian, possible inaccurate timelines, it is hinted that R is not from France or Monaco, honorable louis tomlinson appearance bc I am a former louie girlie, R has blue light glasses, cuss words. Happy reading🩵

W/C - 3.9k

A/N - i write all my female Rs with a desi in mind. Written in 2nd pov. I wrote R with a mindset and likes similar to mine, you are free to skip this fic if you don't like it.

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Before Monaco

An hour had passed on the three hour flight from Imola to Nice. Charles was asleep and Leo was curled up in your lap. Sitting in an oversized top and sweatpants, you were quite comfortable while doing some work. You work for a company that allows you to work remotely, which is a huge blessing considering your longtime boyfriend travels the world every other week.

The tiny pup yawned big as he woke up from his nap. You scratched him under the chin. Leo moved around in your lap, found another comfortable spot and went right back to sleep just as Charles also moved to find another comfortable position to nap in. You smiled to yourself and continued working.

Soon the plane landed in a private airport in the French city of Nice. Your bags were handled by the hired help, and Charles insisted on carrying your laptop bag for you. This left you walking along his side with Leo in your arms, still sound asleep. The boat ride to Monaco didn't take long and the drive to your shared apartment went by in a blur.

It felt nice being home during race week. You left Leo in his bed and joined Charles in the living room. Coming up from behind you hugged him while softly asking, "Qu'est-ce que tu penses?" (what is on your mind?). Even after all these years you still cringed at your accent.

"The race" he replied.

You sighed as you remembered the dnfs, mechanical failures and team errors that Charles had to endure. Year after year, the pain just kept getting worse as you watched from the grandstands and eventually the garage.

"You should focus on the positives. The team has been performing well and this season has been different than the last 3, there is hope." you weren't sure if what you said was the right thing. You kissed him on the cheek and moved around the couch to come and sit next to him.

"It is not easy when every other time I have had hope, it has been ripped away and torn into tiny pieces," Charles said while looking defeated. You felt sad seeing him like this. You just held your arms out and let him fall into your embrace. With the couch being big enough for two people to sleep on it, soon you and Charles fell asleep, still in the hug.

During Monaco

Photographers snapped photos of you and Rebecca, Leo's leash entwined with your hand. The two of you were spotted outside the Ferrari hospitality an hour before qualifying. Charles was busy with his engineer and strategist and asked you to give him some alone time. So, you thought a small walk around the paddock with your puppy and good friend would be beneficial.

Eventually the crowd of fans surrounding you and Rebecca who wanted to see Leo was getting quite large, so you politely said goodbye to the fans, picked up the pup and made your way back to the Ferrari motorhome. You got a text from your boyfriend.

Can you come to my drivers room?

You entered the room and put Leo down, allowing him to calm down and drink some water from his very own water bottle and attached bowl. "Darling, do you need something?" you asked Charles as he looked tense.

You moved closer to him. Charles caught you by surprise when he pulled you even closer and hugged you extremely tight. "Je ne me sens pas bien," (i don't feel good) he whispered. "C'est bon. Tout ira bien. It's ok, you'll be ok." you quietly kept repeating to him until Leo began demanding attention with his big brown eyes and soft whines.

Charles wiped the few tears that escaped and picked him up with a new smile adorning his face. For a moment, it was just the three of you, your perfect little family. There was a knock at the door, followed by a Ferrari team member informing Charles that he was required in 5 minutes. Charles placed a wet kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you for supporting me the way you do. I love you so much, mon cœur," (my heart) he said, his lips still on your forehead. The pair walked out of the room and split ways. You had the hired help watch Leo for the duration of qualifying in a private room.

You sat with Charles' family just as the Sky Sports camera panned on you. You smiled when you saw yourself on the monitor and gave a small wave while sitting next to Charlotte.

Even though you knew that Charles would easily clear Q1, you could not help the anxiety that made its way throughout your body. He crossed the line and made it to Q2. With the next session, your anxiety worsened. But within 15 minutes your nerves eased.

Q3. This was it. As the minutes slowly turned from 12 to 2, you were feeling sick. Charles' sleek Ferrari flew over the finish line and your hands flew to your mouth. Pole Position. At his home race. At your home race. The cameras focused on you to get your and his family's reaction.

At parc ferme, Charles ran over to his team who hyped him up even more. He signed the wheel and posed for the photos, the smile never leaving his face. Even after finishing up his media duties and making his way back to his family and you in the motorhome, his smile remained ever present. You swore he never hugged you tighter than that.

Race day. The day that actually mattered.

You entered the paddock a few steps behind Charles, Leo once again in your hold. You didn't get a lot of time with Charles, considering he was the man of the hour after securing pole. The two of you shared a moment together before he had to head out for the national anthem.

"Comment te sens-tu, chérie?" (how are you feeling, darling?) you asked him while he changed into his race suit. He looked up and the look on his face gave you your answer. You smiled and he continued wearing his suit. There were butterflies in his stomach. That meant he felt nervous, hopeful, anxious and confident all at once.

Charles was out on the track, and you once again joined his family in the motorhome. At that point though, it would be more appropriate to call them your family. You and Charles have been together for a long time. The pair of you had seen each other at their lowest and highest. When Charles lost his father and when for nearly a year you could not get a job. When news of Anthoine's death reached Charles, he was on holiday with you and your family in another country. Your family gave him the comfort he needed. When you got news that your parents contracted covid, there was nothing you could do sitting in your apartment in Monaco. Pascale was like a second mother to you.

The race began. You found a place to sit and watch the race. Charles was in the lead. A huge crash. A totaled redbull and a red flag. You felt the butterflies creeping up from your stomach to your throat. The race resumed and continued. Piastri was close to Charles, but not enough to threaten his position. It felt like time slowed down during the final lap. You had an earbud plugged in one ear and could hear Crofty's iconic last lap commentary.

The number 16 Ferrari flew past the checkered flag and fireworks flew out from the sides of the track. Charles' family members were already hugging each other and some of the team members who were there. But you didn't move. Tears were flowing down your face and a smile was etched on your face. The first person you moved to hug was Charlotte, the older woman was like an elder sister to you.

The camera's stream kept cutting from Charles out on the track to you and his family in the motorhome. Everyone quickly left the garage and made their way to parc ferme. You saw Charles pull up and stop in front of the 1st place stand. You watched from the back as he ran to his team, Arthur and Lorenzo pushed their way to the front. After getting weighed, the team moved to allow you to come to the front where Charles walked towards you.

Normally, you and Charles would keep the pda on the lesser side when cameras were around, but not this time. The forever smiling face, messy-haired and slightly teary-eyed boyfriend of yours pulled you directly into a powerful kiss. His left arm was around your back while his right hand was half on your face and half on your neck. You could hear and feel all the cameras going off around you.

Charles broke the kiss but kept your foreheads connected. You held both of his hands. "Tu l'as fait," (you did it) you repeated in all the languages you knew while nodding your head. You could see the tears welling up in his eyes again. He quickly blinked them away, "L'ho fatto," (i did it) he said in Italian quickly kissed you once again before hugging you.

You stood below the podium and watched as he received the trophy he had been waiting his entire life for. You were still crying. The tears would not stop, and they only got worse when Charles made eye contact with you after he was presented with the medal. He mouthed the words I love you. So much. Thank you. You could only hold your hand to your heart in response.

After Monaco

Even after a full day, you could still smell the fragrance of champagne wafting off of Charles.

You and Charles had celebrated his win on Sunday night in a club. He was practically glued to your side the entire night. No matter who he was talking to, either he did it while having an arm around you or holding your hand. By the end of the night, you were left with a very clingy and very drunk boyfriend. With Joris's help, you got Charles into the car. He drove the both of you home.

Back at the apartment, Charles seemed to have sobered up a bit after you made him eat some food.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" Charles was lying down on the bed and was lovingly staring at you.

"All the time," you answered while changing for the night.

You finished changing and joined Charles in bed. Leo who was previously perched near Charles' feet climbed onto you and snuggled up on your chest.

Charles got your attention by saying your name, "I want you to understand what I mean when I say this. I love you. I appreciate you so much, even I cannot comprehend it. You have supported me throughout my years in Formula 1 and Formula 2. You have stood by me all these years, even when you had to sacrifice your job and sleep schedule for me. Je veux que vous compreniez la profondeur de ce que je dis." (i want you to understand the depth of what i am saying).

His eyes kept moving around but eventually rested on your face. He looked into your eyes when he finally spat out what he truly wanted to say.

"Mon cœur, mon âme, ma vie, je veux passer le reste de ma vie avec toi. Veux-tu m'épouser?" (My heart, my soul, my life, i want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?)

I took you a second to process what Charles said. You looked down and saw him holding a simple gold band with three small diamonds set in it. His free arm was laid across your stomach under Leo, who woke up when he sensed his mom feeling strong emotions.

Tears filled your eyes, your heart began beating faster and you were sweating a bit. Leo moved to the bed and was now licking the tears that fell from your eyes. You felt like you couldn't speak, but you very much knew what your answer was.

Before Monza

The summer break was perfect. You used your paid leave and were fully able to enjoy your time with the entire family. The photos of Leo that Charles posted to his instagram were adored by the fans. Your insta account remained private, but you still posted the dog nonetheless.

Neither of you announced the engagement just yet, wanting to keep it to yourselves for a while. Fans got curious when they saw a new ring around that special finger after Charles' win in Monaco, but since it was quite simple and small, they thought nothing much of it. You were known for wearing many different rings on the same finger, so people thought it was just another ring you fancied.

Unfortunately, after your long break, you were required to come back to the office for a few days for important meetings with the higher-ups of your company. That meant you missed the race in Zandvoort and Charles podium. But you made it up to him by joining him in Monza, his adopted home race.

Walking in the streets of Monza with a loved Ferrari driver was always quite the experience. Leo loved the attention from all the fans, he was a born extrovert. You and Charles had lunch at one of your favourite restaurants. The both of you sat in a relatively private section of the restaurant.

"I missed you at Zandvoort," Charles said before eating a morsel of his favourite pasta. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I tried to leave as early as I could, but by the time the meeting finished it made no sense to come," you said wishing you could have been there for him. Ever since Monaco, the team had been struggling. It brought back painful flashbacks of 2022 and 2023.

Things were not the best between you and Charles during the week you were out for work. The timings never seemed to match, when he had the energy to talk you were too burnt out, and doing all of this while also planning a wedding was not easy. It put a small strain on your relationship which seemed like it was reaching its breaking point during this weekend.

During Monza

You spent the rest of the week working. In between the free practice sessions, you were spotted with a pair of blue-light glasses on and bent over your laptop and a notebook. Leo was either sleeping in his carrier by your feet or was with Arthur or Lorenzo.

You barely saw Charles the entire weekend. He was either busy with his engineer and strategist or was filming content. It only made the strain in your relationship even worse and left Rebecca having to hear your side of it for most of the weekend considering both the boys were quite busy.

It was only before qualifying that you managed to get a moment with Charles at all.

"Charles, I know this is an important race for you, but we need to talk," you sternly said leaving no room for arguments. Charles was about to protest but you simply pulled him by the arm to his drivers room.

"Pourquoi tu ne me parles pas?" (why are you not talking to me?) you folded your arms while facing him. "You have been avoiding me ever since Thursday!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were too tired and 'fagged out' to want to talk," he replied sarcastically and with air quotes. "Je ne comprends pas pourquoi tu dois te comporter comme ça!" (I don't get why you have to behave like that!) Charles started walking around angrily and went off rattling away in French at such a fast pace you could not understand what he was saying.

"Just stop!" you yelled. "Just tell me why you are angry at me," you said, softer this time, almost in defeat.

"I don't like it when you are so busy with your work that you do not have time for us," Charles whispered after a long pause.

"And how do you think I feel when you are so busy with your work? I am required to go to the office at least every six months. You travel around the world every other week. You have less free time than I do, but have you heard me complain? So, instead of getting angry that I had to leave for one week to discuss plans for the company's future with the CEO, you should be happy that it was only one week out of the 52 in a year."

By the time you finished speaking, Charles had his hands over his face and was standing quite far from you. He whispered something inaudibly. With a confused look on your face, you moved closer to your fiancé. Upon feeling your body heat in the cold room, he removed his hands from his face and repeated his words.

I'm sorry.

The both of you wrapped yourselves in an embrace and for 5 minutes were only apologising and promising to do better in the future. You left the room after giving him a kiss. You headed down to the garage wanting to watch quali with Arthur who was watching Leo while you worked.

The timer began the countdown into Q1. Normally you would've been feeling quite nervous, but you were distracted by the charming british singer sitting next to you. Being a young girl during the height of One Direction was something else entirely. Your childhood dreams of meeting your favourite singer from the famous boyband had now come true.

Soon it was time for Q3 and you got a photo with Louis who by the time Q3 began, just like the rest of the world, fell in love with Leo and his photos. Charles put in great laps, but ended up only p4 alongside Russel.

Charles finished with his media duties and met up with you inside the motorhome. You were on a work call when he walked into the room. Leo was in the corner of the room scarfing down his food as if he hadn't eaten in years, his ears flopping all over the place.

You cut the call frustrated, removing your glasses from your face and placing them on your head. "Est-ce que tu vas bien?" (are you good?) he asked while holding you from the side and kissing your temple. You nodded and just packed up your things while Charles gathered his things as well.

The grandstands were filled with a sea of red and occasional yellow. Your outfit consisted of only red, yellow and black. Charles had left for the paddock earlier, so you made plans to have breakfast with Rebecca and leave for the paddock together.

You walked around before the race with Leo on the leash in front of you, Rebecca by your side. "So, how is wedding planning going?" she asked, her beautiful scottish accent making you smile. "We are still looking at venues. All we know is that it's going to be sometime in August of next year."

The drivers would soon be called for the national anthem. So, you went back to the Ferrari garage looking for your soon-to-be husband. You found him sitting next to Arthur, water bottle in hand. Leo instantly ran towards him and began climbing up his dad.

"Just do your best. Give it your all. Je t'aime tellement." (i love you so much) you sent Charles off with a hug. Leo was fast asleep in his carrier, so you joined Arthur down in the garage. You put on the large red headphones and waved at the camera when you saw yourself on the broadcast.

Halfway through the race, it hit you that Charles could possibly win. It was a stretch considering he was attempting a one-stopper. But as lap after lap went by the possibility of that dream coming true seemed more and more likely. His tires were probably gonna look like chewed-up bubblegum by the end of the race, but if he managed them just right...

He did it. He fucking did it. The roar of the Tifosi was stronger than ever. Unlike his last win, this time you were not seated. You were jumping up and down, cheering as loud as you could, matching the energy of the Ferrari team members around you. Some of them hugged you.

While Charles was finishing his cool-down lap, the mechanics and other team members rushed out to greet Charles in parc ferme. You stayed close to Arthur, knowing that you could possibly get pushed in the wrong direction. With a hand around your back, he guided you to the front where you could see the beautiful red car pull up.

Charles came running toward the team, moving quickly to try and hug everyone possible. As he moved from Arthur to hug you, from the corner of your eyes you could see more cameras making their way towards you. FLASH! And that was how one of the iconic photos of Monza 2024 was born. Charles' arms wrapped around you and he had his visor up, his eyes filled with so much emotion. You were smiling widely in the photo and had your hands on either side of his helmet. But the part that made the photo iconic was that your left hand was facing the camera, and in that, you had tucked away all of your fingers except the one with your engagement ring.

Winning the Italian Grand Prix as a Ferrari driver is always special, so you watched the podium celebration from inside the motorhome, wanting him to enjoy the moment with the team and the Tifosi to the fullest.

After Monza

For the next two days, the streets of Monza were filled with Ferrari flags being either hung from somewhere or people waving them around. It seemed like every other Italian was asking for an autograph from Charles or a photo with him. But it wasn't just Charles and Ferrari who were the talk of town. So were you.

That photo of you and Charles just after the race had gone viral. At first, people were freaking out, wondering if the two of you were really engaged or if it was a joke. Only when Charles reposted the photo to his story did fans really start freaking out.

Congratulations were pouring out of everyone's mouth who had seen the photo or heard of the news. You didn't mean for the news to overshadow Charles' incredible win on 38-lap old tires. But it didn't. As a matter of fact, the win and engagement news gelled well together, neither taking away from the other.

The night before the team would be heading to Maranello you and Charles laid in the hotel bed, Leo fast asleep on his own bed. "I'm sorry for not asking if you'd be fine with me announcing our engagement," you said in a soft voice while drawing shapes on his torso. Charles, who had you wrapped around his side, kissed your forehead and said, "Je suis content que tu l'aies fait," (I am glad you did it).

The next morning Charles posted a photo of a formal dinner the two of you had with not just his but also your family where the engagement was announced. Of course, Leo was in the center of the photo.

A/n - honestly idk what i even wrote. i am tired af and just needed to get this out of my system. Hope you enjoyed reading🩵

[sports-on-sundays]

Ahhh okay okay okay so inspired by Fermin having a gf now ( sad hours ) but anyway !! What if y/n has feeling for Fermin and she gets the courage to tell him about her feelings buuut she finds out that he has a gf and she starts to move on with Charles or Arthur 🤭 and Fermin finds out about her feelings but it’s already to late !

too late / Arthur Leclerc

Summary: Arthur x female!reader - When you find out your crush has a girlfriend, you start to move onto someone else. But when you're old crush, Fermín, finds out you once had feelings for him, though he's not sure anything would have changed, he still, for some reason, wished he would have known.

Warnings: a bit of anxiety/nervous energy, vertigo, swear

Requested?: Yes.

You sit on a bench outside a cute little coffee shop, listening as the person talking to you on the other side of the phone finishes, "...so yeah, anyways, it's super cool I got to meet you!"

"Yeah," you smile broadly. "You'll have to introduce me to your brother, too."

"Oh, of course. You know, I think we could be fri-"

"Oh, one second! Looks like my friend is here! Sorry, I got to go!" you respond quickly, your face lighting up to see none other than Fermín López sauntering down the street towards you, the biggest, cutest smile radiating off his handsome face.

"Oh, right, sorry- Nice talking to you!" the man on the phone says quickly with a little laugh.

And you hang up on Arthur Leclerc, popping up off the park bench to meet Fermín, slipping your cellphone into your gold purse. You beam at Fermín, exclaiming, "Hey! Ready to get some coffee?"

"Sure..." he says, a slight hint of confusion in his voice, perhaps at your overly energetic excitement this morning.

Well, that's because he has no idea what you're planning on doing this morning. Naturally.

"Well, you seem like you're in a good mood," the Spanish man says with a little smile, holding the door for you.

"I am! Actually, I'm in a great mood!" you exclaim, beaming.

"Right," he chuckles, eyes sparkling a bit.

Just as you order the coffee, rethinking for the one hundredth time what you're about to do, butterflies well up in your chest, so that the moment you're sitting across from him at the coffee table, you immediately say excitedly, "So, uh, Fermín! I've got... uhm, kind of, I guess, to admit, but also to ask you..."

He smiles a bit, nodding. "Is this why you seem to have all this nervous pent-up energy this morning? Sure, you can tell me anything."

You gulp, your high emotions very suddenly sinking at the thought that Fermín is exactly right.

You're only feeling this nervous because you're a nervous wreck, Y/n! your brain snaps at yourself.

All the sudden, you deflate like a short-lived balloon, releasing a long sigh as your hands immediately reach for a napkin to absently begin anxiously curling. "Um... yeah, so..."

Come on, Y/n. Just say it. A few moments ago, you were so excited...!

You sigh shakily before suddenly blurting, looking up to meet the 21-year-old's brown eyes, "Fermín, I guess I just wanted to say I like you. You're cute, and I... I've kind of had feelings for you for a while now, so..." you falter, feeling so embarrassed and warm, before pushing out the rest: "So, would you like to, like, date me or something? Like, do you feel the same way, I guess?"

"Oh, uhm-" Fermín begins, biting his lip. "Well, uh, thank you so much, Y/n, but..." he trails off as your heart begins to sink in dread.

You feel all the blood rush from your head, feeling a little dizzy. "But what?" you manage.

"But, well..." he smiles nervously, before finishing carefully, "Y/n, I guess you didn't hear, but I have a girlfriend now..."

Immediately, you feel a terrible, crushing, embarrassing shame crash over you, and you lean back, your hands shaking. "Oh- I-" you begin, but decide nothing you're going to say is going to make this situation better for either of you.

So you get up and run out of the coffee shop, leaving your nearly full coffee across the table from Fermín, to get cold and eventually be dumped down the sink.

For the next week, you kind of go into a state of depressed hermitage, out of the pure embarrassment and heartbreak of the single guy who you've been crushing on for over a year getting a girlfriend right before you decide to admit your emotions, basically making you feel like absolute crap. And making you look like a total fool.

You sigh, getting home from work one day and flopping on your couch, about to put on some stupid mindless television show to redirect your thoughts, when suddenly your phone begins ringing on the coffee table. You sigh and pick it up, and just stare at the screen for a few seconds when you see it's none other than Arthur Leclerc.

About a week before the incident with Fermín, so about two weeks ago now, you had the experience of your life, getting to go to a Formula 1 Grand Prix. You happened to, by sheer luck, to run into Arthur Leclerc, who was immediately extremely friendly and seemed to take a specific liking to you. You had a good conversation together, before he said he had to get going, but quickly wrote down his phone number for you, telling you to stay in touch, because he'd love to get to know you more.

So here you are, a heartbroken mess about Fermín López, staring at your phone as Arthur Leclerc tries to call you.

What's up with me and all these famous athlete sports boys?

You sigh, and though you really don't want to- in fact, it's kind of the last thing you feel like doing right now- you answer the call and press the phone to your ear, saying tentatively, "Hello...?"

"Hey, Y/n!" comes the cheery accented voice of the Monégasque. "Just calling, seeing how you're doing, and what you're up to!"

"Oh..." you sigh, not really sure what to say.

But Arthur immediately picks up on your lack of excitement. "Is something wrong?"

You're silent for a few moments, before figuring, Ah, what the heck? Might as well just tell him. The Leclerc's seem like they could be a relatively emotionally intelligent family, anyway, and saying simply, "Well, I haven't been doing so great, because a guy I really have been liking for a while kind of... rejected me. You see, he has a girlfriend, and I didn't know that..." You're still not sure why you're telling Arthur this, but regardless, it feels good to.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry about that... That sucks... Well..." He's silent for a few seconds, before continuing, "Maybe I have some news that might cheer you up?"

"What?" you ask, not quite sure if anything could cheer you up about Fermín, until you finally just get over him yourself.

But then, just like that, Arthur Leclerc drops, "Would you like to come to the Monaco Grand Prix? I'll be there, and you said you wanted to meet my brother!"

You sit, stunned silent for a few seconds, before finally the rational side of your brain wins over and you say, "Oh, Arthur, I'd love to, but I just don't think I'll be able to. I live in Barcelona; that's not exactly a stroll away from Monte Carlo. And besides that, travelling, food, ticket, and lodging expenses would be through the roof. I'm so incredibly sorry to say this, but I just don't think something like that can work."

"Well, I do think it can work," Arthur suddenly chimes.

You sit in confused silence for a few more seconds, before saying, kind of annoyed at the rich Monaco-dweller, "How can you even say that?"

"Because," he begins, and somehow you can just tell he's smirking, "It's a short flight, and I can pay for your plane ticket, as well as your race ticket, paddock pass, you know, the works. And as for food and lodging, you can stay with me, of course!"

You sit, gaping and completely stunned silent this time, so much so that Arthur has to ask, "Uh... Are you still there, Y/n?"

"I- Y- Yeah, I am... I'm here... I just... Arthur-! Why on earth would you do all that for me?! We only met once! We're basically strangers! This is, like, our fourth conversation ever! You're crazy!"

"Call me crazy, but I've taken a liking to you, I guess. And you're pretty, and have got a heart of gold, and I think it would be cool to make a dream of yours come true. Or- a couple of your dreams come true, even. If that's okay with you!"

"What do you mean, if it's okay with me? Of course it's okay with me, but- it's just-"

"Alright, good, then! It's okay with you! I'll arrange everything for you, then, and I'll see you for the Monaco Grand Prix weekend?"

"I- I mean, I-"

"I'll see you then; au revoir!"

You sit on your couch, slowly taking the phone down away from your ear, just staring at it, your mouth still slightly hanging open, sort of frozen from whatever just happened.

What did just happen?!

"Hey!" Arthur Leclerc beams, swiftly walking up to you and taking your bags straight out of your hands, before teasing, "What, do you never fly? You look thoroughly lost!" He laughs a little.

"No, no," you laugh, snapping out of it, beaming to see the Monégasque man in front of you. "Just... yeah, anyways, great to see you again! And I still can't thank you enough for everything you're doing for m-"

"Oh, just wait to say one big 'thank you' at the end of the weekend, and let yourself enjoy the moment now. Come on, let's get to my house to drop off your stuff, and then, I'll bring you to dinner with my family."

"Wait, sorry, what?!" you ask in shock, following after him. "Did you just say dinner with your family?!"

"Yes, I sure did!" the 23-year-old beams as you catch up to him. "Just you wait and see- you'll love them!"

"This still doesn't feel right... We hardly know each other, and you're bringing me to meet your family?"

"Yeah, of course," Arthur says as he gets out of his car and comes around to open the door for you, before finishing, "I mean, Alexandra is going to be there!"

"Isn't she Charles's girlfriend," you deadpan.

"M-hm," Arthur responds with a little smile. "But it doesn't matter. Besides, if we get to know each other more, maybe one day you will be my girlfriend."

You stop walking up to the house and just stand there, gaping at him. "You're- You're so forward, my God!"

"What?" the older individual teases. "You don't like that?"

"I mean- I don't know- I guess I just wasn't expecting that..."

"Oh," he grins. "Well, it's funny when you gape at me like that. Either way, so far at least, you sure seem like my type." He grabs your wrist and says, pulling you toward the house, "Anyways, on we go!"

"Right..." you breathe, your head swirling from those words said by him.

Dinner is great with Arthur's family, and it's a dream come true to meet the Charles Leclerc (you're a huge fan), but it doesn't, surprisingly enough, get interesting until you make it make to Arthur's home, when he says, upon seeing you yawn, "Want to come to my room, and we can go to bed? I'm sleepy myself; it's been a long day for me, too."

You blink at him hesitantly, saying, "You're saying this in a way suggesting we're both sleeping in your room."

He's silent for a few seconds, before he nervously smiles and says, "Yeah... if that's okay with you."

You stare at him before a few seconds, before saying tentatively, "Okay... I guess."

So later, though you would've never, ever imagined this happening a week ago, you're all in your comfy pajamas, crawling into bed next to none other than Arthur Leclerc.

"You don't think this is... wrong, or anything?" you venture as you lay down.

He snorts, putting his arm around you. "No. Why would it be? We're just cuddling."

"Exactly!"

"And I want to get to know you more. So what's on your mind?"

You sigh. "What's on my mind is that it feels weird to be cuddling with someone the fifth time I've met them."

Suddenly Arthur has a cheeky smile on his face as he jokes, "Have you ever heard of one-night-stands? It means on the first time people meet-"

"Arthur!" you groan, rolling your eyes in slight amusement.

He just pats your shoulder, before a moment of silence follows, that for some reason doesn't feel awkward at all, though you would expect it to.

No, not at all. It's almost comfortable. Nearly comforting.

And when Arthur finally does start talking again, it's nice. He starts a conversation, and now, all the sudden, you feel willing to engage in it with him.

As the night goes further on, your voices become even more hushed, until, after hours of just laying and chatting together, Arthur's arm around you and rubbing your shoulder gently, when he's gently whispering, mid-sentence, you begin to doze.

There's a few seconds of silence from Arthur, until he whispers, "You asleep, Y/n?"

When he gets no response but your gentle, warm, steady breathing, he smiles and cuddles in closer, before closing his eyes and letting himself drift off into peaceful slumber as well.

For the rest of the whole weekend, you have a blast with Arthur in Monaco, every minute spent with him becoming more and more enjoyable. All you can think is that he may have been onto something with all his cuddling and silly flirting.

And now you stand in the Ferrari garage, your whole face lit up, adrenaline pumping through your body as you watch Charles Leclerc cross the finish line before any other driver.

In Monaco.

You feel Arthur's strong arm throw itself around your shoulders, pulling you to his side as he says near your ear, "Oh my God, Y/n... Charles won..."

You laugh a bit before looking up to meet Arthur's sparkling eyes. He's got a huge grin on his face, pure joy radiating off his being, and you squint, seeing a wet glistening on his cheeks, before suddenly realising and exclaiming, "Are you crying?!"

He grins even wider, if that's even possible, and says, his eyes searching yours and finding whatever they were looking for, "Yeah, and so what?"

You breathe shakily and suddenly, though you would've never pictured yourself doing this ever, throw your arms around Arthur Leclerc in a tight embrace. "I'm so happy for you!" you squeal, pressing your cheek into his chest.

"You should be happy for Charles!" he beams, laughing, snatching your hand. "And, anyways, let's go meet him by the finish line and watch him lift his trophy!" And just like that, the two of you are off running to see the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix race winner.

At the beginning of the weekend, you barely knew Arthur Leclerc. He was a nice guy who had shown a bit of interest in you who just so happened to be a rich racer boy from Monaco with a heart of gold. But by the end of the weekend, it almost feels natural to hug him, or pat his shoulder, or hold his hand.

Before the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, your heart and head still ached and pounded every single living moment, second of your time, reminding you of the loss and the jealousy you were feeling concerning Fermín López. Now, it all feels washed away with the affection and friendship that's been shown to you by Arthur Leclerc.

All of the sudden, you don't feel a desperation for Fermín anymore. You're content with having Arthur's contact in your phone, and knowing he's just as interested in you as you are in him.

It feels good when emotions are mutual.

So going back to Barcelona, it's different than when you left for Monaco.

There's a warmth in your chest and an excitement for what's to come, rather than the cold dread and regret you felt in such unbearable amounts when you left.

For days, you can't get Arthur out of your spinning head, and all the things about him you accidentally fell in love with.

But with Fermín, I never really did have a chance... But Arthur? Arthur started this whole thing. Clearly, he likes me.

And just as you're laying in bed in the morning, grinning about that instead of getting up to get dressed, your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You look over and snatch it up, excited that it may be a message from Arthur, but just stare when you open your phone and see it is instead from Fermín.

You don't know how to feel.

You quickly look to see what he's texted you.

Fermín: Hey I saw from your socials you went to the Monaco grand prix. I hope it was fun. want to meet up sometime?

You sigh, staring at that. Before, without a shadow of a doubt, no hesitation, you would have immediately said 'yes,' and been thoroughly excited about it.

But now, something has changed.

You sigh and decide, sort of on a whim, to just call him, instead.

He pick ups after only a few rings with, "Hello?"

"Hi, Fermín... What's up?"

"I'd like to know what's up with you! You went to the Monaco Grand Prix! How was it? Who'd you go with?"

"Oh," you smile a little. "Actually, I went with Charles Leclerc's little brother, Arthur Leclerc. I got to meet Charles and a bunch of the other drivers, but Arthur is famous in his own right, too."

"Oh, wow... Well, cool! So have you known Arthur Leclerc for a while, or...?"

You chuckle. "Actually, no. But he had a great time. I really like him, to be honest. He's really sweet; his whole family is."

"Ah..." Fermín says, kind of trailing off, before picking up and saying, "Oh, I looked up Arthur's Instagram. They're from Monaco, right?"

"Yeah, and Charles won! It was awesome!"

"Oh..." More silence, before Fermín finally says, "There's a picture of you and him on one of his posts... Are you guys dating or something?"

"Huh? No, why?"

"He's kissing your cheek in the picture."

You immediately blush and groan, "Arthur! Why did he post that one?!" You sigh. "No, we're not dating, but we both like each other a lot."

"Oh. You do?"

"Yeah, he's really super sweet. I'm so glad I met him; we really just clicked right away..."

"Oh... that's good to hear..." Fermín responds, not exactly feeling it was, for some reason.

After he gets off the phone with you, as he drives to training, he's deep in thought.

He knows you liked him, and probably did for a while. And asked him on a date soon after he started dating his girlfriend. But there was something about knowing you liked him, and knowing you're so sweet, that...

Perhaps a small little idea in the back of his head said, Well if this doesn't work out, I always know Y/n will be there.

And besides that, he's always valued your friendship so much. It feels weird to hear you moved on so fast to this race car driver dude.

As Fermín pulls into the parking lot, all he can think is a grave, I wish I would've known. I don't know if it would've changed anything, but either way, it's too late now...

[velocesainz]

hi please could i make an order!!

Charles Leclerc

Hoodie: I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't tell you

Leggings: How did I get so lucky

Puff sleeve: That's such a good fucking girl

Scarf: Friends to lovers

A/n: hey lovely, thank you so much for your order! Hope you’ve been enjoying enjoy :)

I Wanna be your lover

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

Summary: Charles and readers are good friends and also work together. Seeing reader close with another driver he feels the need to urgently express his feelings.

Pairing: Charles leclerc x reader; platonic!George Russel x reader

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, smut, mdni

Order receipt:

Hoodie: I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't tell you

Leggings: How did I get so lucky

Puff sleeve: That's such a good fucking girl

Scarf: Friends to lovers

Charles pov:

Me and y/n have been friends for a few years now, ever since we met eachother during f2.

I’ve liked her for the same amount of time as I’ve known her and although it started off as a small crush has become a huge longing for her.

Her smile can light up the whole room. Her eyes filled with determination when she drives are mesmerising.

I was walking with my press officer going over my schedule for the day when I heard her angelic laugh.

I turned to find her bending over laughing with George Russel

Now everyone loves George. Who could not?

Watching her laugh like a maniac made insecure. What if she liked George? What if am not funny enough or good enough for her.

All these thoughts clouded my mind but were broken when my press officer snapped his fingers in front of my face

“Are you listening Charles?”

“Uh sorry I got uhm distracted”

“I can tell. You have some free time now, you can go talk to her. Maybe tell her how you feel”

I stared at him. Was it really that obvious to everyone?

“Yes. You’re constantly making heart eyes at her”

Shit I said that out loud

I walked up to her and George greeting them

“Hey guys!”

“Oh hey Charlie!” “Hey Charles!”

“How’s it going? What are you guys cackling about?”

“Oh it was literally so silly I tell you!”

“So this diva over here was complaining about the fact that’s he’s fucking lonely and needs a girlfriend.”

“And you know what this woman suggests? Her! Like tf? Bitch I am not dating your ass”

With that they both burst into a fit of giggles.

Hearing George say that she suggested that George date her made my heart sink down to my stomach

I couldn’t bear standing around her for much longer so I just left giving them some lame excuse

Reader pov:

I watched Charles hurriedly run away after George told him what we were talking about.

I felt upset that he left

I’ve liked him for a while and thought the feelings were reciprocated but with recent events I don’t think that’s the case anymore

“What’s up with him?”

“Ah the lads jealous. He didn’t think you were joking when you told me to date you to be less lonely”

Huh? Jealous?

“ I mean I’m not surprised. He will believe everything you say blindly, he’ll even jump off a bloody bridge if you told him to. He’s way too in love you”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m positive y/n. I’m really surprised you hadn’t noticed yet”

With that we both went our separate ways to prepare for the race

Time skip:

The race was over and I had finished p2 after my teammate max and above George in p3

Elated during the podium ceremony me and George hugged eachother

“You certainly are looking extra bright today? Is it because I’m on the podium with you this time?” George teased

I just shrugged and gave him a kiss on the cheek

“Maybe? It’s about time I shared about podium with you mate”

With that the champagne spraying began and me and max were determined to completely cover George in our champagne as it was one of the few times his tractor of a Mercedes made podium

After the ceremony and all the interviews I was in my drivers room getting changed and taking a shower planning to head out for a team celebration at some nightclub

I was putting on make up when I heard a knock on my door

I went to open it and saw Charles

“Hey”

“Hey, come in”

He sat himself down on my couch, constantly fidgeting with his hands which I knew was a nervous habit of his

“What wrong Charlie? You seem nervous”

“Uh-I uh” he stuttered seemingly trying to find words

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t ever judge you”

I prayed it was nothing about him getting a girlfriend because he’d had a few of those and piecing his heart together after the nasty breakups were getting too much for me

He stood up and walked closer to me.

“I-I like you y/n. A lot. I’ve liked for many years now and I know you’re with George but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you”

I was stunned at his confession. My brain was screaming at me to say something back but my body was frozen is shock and glee.

He seemed to have taken my silence as a rejection as he began to sadly walk away when I grabbed him by his collar and kissed him

He pulled away first

“What about George? Aren’t you with him?”

I looked at him confused

When were me and George ever a thing?

“I never liked him or dated him Charlie. It’s always been you”

With that he kissed me hard, passion radiating from both our bodies

He took my over to my couch and laid me down on it beginning to take off my clothes

“God you’re so beautiful how did I get so lucky?”

He kissed my neck leaving little love notes all over it

He took off his shirt and pants leaving him in his boxers revealing the raging bone he had

He took off his boxers while I got on my knees

I took his angry red tip in my mouth and started sucking him off

Groans and grunts left his mouth uncontrollably

“Mmph fuck your mouth is so good and you such me off so well baby. Such a good fucking girl

As I felt him twitch in my mouth ready to cum he pulled me off of his cock

I whined at the loss of cock in my mouth and looked at him confused

“I want to cum in you baby”

With that he aligned his cock with my pussy and in one powerful thrust inserted himself into me causing us both to let out loud moans of pleasure

He started fucking me hard and fast, his pace ungodly

Soon we were both approaching our highs as Charles’s thrusts started to turn sloppy

“Agh I’m gonna cum!”

“Me too baby”

With one final thrust he came inside my pussy ass I came around his cock

We both laid on the couch next to eachother, exhausted

“I love you so much”

“I love you too but we should probably get out of here the paddock’s going to close soon”

With that we both got dressed and walked out of the paddock hand in hand

A/n: Hey lovelies! Hope you enjoy the fic, I apologise for taking so long to post. I’ve just not been in the right headspace. But everyday’s a new day and more fics are upcoming. Also I will be discontinuing my Taglist as it doesn’t really seem to be very active. As always leave your feedback Kissies ✨

[f1version]

FAVORITE PHOTOS ★ HEADCANON

pairing: f1 grid x fem!reader (no pronouns specified)

summary: f1 drivers and their favorite photo of you

note: i love this not gonna lie

★ CARLOS SAINZ (55) — one with piñón. you and his dog, his favorite living creatures in the world. when he took the pic, it was 4 PM in barcelona, a day after both of you got home from miami. piñón was very excited to see you, never leaving neither of your sides all day, so when it came down to buy some fast food (because he was not expecting to go home before monza), you had to take her. you were eating while holding her, and the biggest smile appeared on his lips. he had to take a picture.

★ LEWIS HAMILTON (44) — lewis’ favorite picture came unexpectedly. one night, he woke up at 3 AM because of some noise, you weren’t next to him, and if he didn’t know you and your sleeping patterns, he would have freaked out, but he knew you, you were looking for water. he steeped out of bed, entering your living room to find a surprise. you weren’t looking for water, you were in the floor, painting. you were mesmerizing. that day held a place in his heart.

★ CHARLES LECLERC (16) — he is in love with you… and with his car. one day, you had the amazing idea to ask him how it felt to drive around with a pista, he instantly thought about you driving it. a week later you were getting into the driver seat, he took a hundred photos that day, his favorite being you before getting in. you were so nervous he remembers kissing it better.

★ PIERRE GASLY (10) — you are not a party person, much less a fan of PR events, however, a couple of months ago, you found yourself as pierre's plus one at an alpine event. it was unbearable, which could have been a problem if pierre had been enjoying that night, but he was not, so you decided to leave early. in your hotel room, you threw yourself to the bed and he laughed at your obvious relief. he took a picture, now it's his favorite.

★ YUKI TSUNODA (22) — one of you eating something he made. like 100%. even if he had tons of these pictures, his favorite was unique because of the memory. it was the first dish made by him you tried, he was so scared you hated it, but after you had the first bite, you eyes started shining, the world stopped, it was pure bliss. you loved it, he was so relieved and in love.

★ MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1) — one with the cats 100%, you both are proud cat parents. it would be a photo of the day sally started giving you kisses for the first time, it melted his heart. you both looked perfect, at some point you picked her up and laid down with her while singing a lullaby, the cat drifting to sleep.

★ LANDO NORRIS (4) — you asked him and he proceeded to complain about how dare you ask that knowing he takes at least 35 pictures of you a day, asks if you want him to cry and says you’re making him question his life decisions. finally, he shows you a photo he took of you with his favorite helmet: the one dedicated to you. it wasn’t the best pic you had taken that day but, for him, it felt like home.

★ ALEX ALBON (23) — while your favorite photo of him is him smiling, his favorite photo of you is the funniest, most embarrassing thing. you love it. he took it on a trip you made to the drugstore in the middle of the night, “enchanted” by taylor swift started playing and according to you, your “taylor demon” was awoken. he was recording the whole thing, you were sure the security guys thought you were drunk-out-of-your-mind.

★ GEORGE RUSSELL (63) — george is a simple guy (not really he just repeats that a lot) his favorite photo of you is a very domestic one. one morning he woke up to you reading, he was enchanted by you, he was sure you stayed up all night reading. he found that attractive… and concerning, but more attractive, so before you noticed he was awake, he snapped a picture and immediately started kissing you.

★ LANCE STROLL (18) — having a drink with lance after media day was one of your favorite things, nevertheless, one night you drank more that you should. you don’t remember much, but as far as the videos you both took go, you were knocking on each door of the hotel and drunkenly running away. one of those photos is now his favorite, he doesn’t remember taking it, but he wishes he did.

★ DANIEL RICCIARDO (3) — daniel has two folders dedicated to you in his gallery: one with the cute, artistic, hot, beautiful, sexy, perfect photos he has taken of you and the other with cursed, embarrassing or silly pictures of you. his favorite is a silly one, it’s the only one he has marked as favorite, he loves looking at it and remembering. which one is it? that 0.5x photo he took with his phone the moment you arrived to your first date.

★ MICK SCHUMACHER (47) — he loves sunsets. during a small getaway, you started playing music, dancing, and singing. the sunset had soft tone that complimented you, it was magical and perfect. he knew he would be obsessed with the memory for a while, so he snapped a picture.

★ SEBASTIAN VETTEL (5) — easy pick. the happiest day of his life — your weeding, especially that one photo of you with the veil, seconds away from saying ‘i do’ and accepting to love him for the rest of his days. you were blushing by the way he looked at you and he loves it, he has it printed for his nightstand, as his lock-screen, and it definitely has a spot on his instagram during the whole ‘my life through pictures’ agenda.

[leclercsluvs]

CL16/DR3 | Already Over | smau

part 9 | masterlist

an: this is going to be the last part, and this is happening about a year after the last part ended. daniel is also now racing for redbull, because i want max and daniel as teammates :) pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader, daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 3.189.461 others yourusername guess who went and performed at coachella? it was such a nice crowd!! absolutely loved it.

danielricciardo fuck racing. i'm going to all your next live performances

yourusername not if i have anything to say >:( maxverstappen1 wow am i really that bad to be in a team with? danielricciardo i didn't want you to find out like this... maxverstappen1 guess i won't let you win the next race then 🤷 danielricciardo you don't have to let me, i will win yourusername hey hey, no fighting under my post maxverstappen1 sorry danielricciardo sorry

charles_leclerc looks beautiful

yoursister *cough cough* you aren't together *cough cough*

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, mickshcumacher and 3.357.816 others yourusername was i invited just to take photos? yeah pretty much.

georgerussell63 and you snapped the best photos ever

yourusername yeah but i'm not on any! might as well not have been there 😔

oscarpiastri you all went out???

yourusername you weren't invited??? landonorris yeah he was he was busy oscarpiastri that was a lie, i wanted you to force me landonorris i can't force you when i thought you had plans 🤨 oscarpiastri yes you can. landonorris fine i'll force you the next time

lewishamilton at least you know how to take nice photos so we don't end up with the most blurry photos of all those cool outfits

yourusername oh you mean my outfit? that's on none of these photos? because i had to take them all? lewishamilton i was, in fact, talking about my outfit. but your outfit was alright

lilymhe wow i would have loved an invite

yourusername alex didnt mention it?? lilymhe no he just said he was going out for a quick dinner with the team and then he'd be back alex_albon well it was supposed to be just the team, and then it turned into an after party with all the drivers and we sort of forgot time yourusername smh i was at the redbull dinner because daniel invited me, and kelly was there with max, why didn't you invte lily??? 🤨 alex_albon i wasn't aware we were allowed to invite more people maxverstappen1 oh i just did it, i didn't know either danielricciardo oh i was told to bring y/n

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussel63 and 3.722.261 others yourusername went on a nice well deserved vacation with some friends. refreshing tagged: yourbff, yourfriend, yoursister

yoursister thanks for finally bringing me on one of your adventures

yourusername always a pleasure to have you there to annoy me ❤️ yourbff i was, in fact, invited as the first person yourfriend LIES i was yourusername i literally invited you all in the group chat what are you talking about??? 😭

landonorris now why was i not invited AGAIN??

yourusername do you not have races to attend? landonorris oh... right oscarpiastri yeah i can't race for two people danielricciardo and i am not racing for mclaren anymore so i can't help landonorris right you ditched me for redbull danielricciardo bitch i was FIRED

charles_leclerc looking beautiful as always

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 3.722.261 others scuderiaferrari good weekend with charles on the podium. again next weekend? tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc hoping for the best next weekend, hoping to be back on the top though

y/n/n4ever soooo did anyone else see y/n in the paddock today? i swear she's his lucky charm. whenever she's there he does amazing.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 3.722.261 others yourusername my man finally got p1 in his home race. so proud of you 🥹 tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc i thought you said "not too public" 🤨

yourusername well that was before you won and before twitter spotted us charles_leclerc that makes sense

leclercs well this was a hard launch for sure

scfty/n and i'm here for it

lecswrld so so so proud of him!!

georgerussel63 congrats mate!

oscarpiastri 1-2 for the leclerc family

yourusername i'm sorry what-? charles_leclerc sorry i should have talked to you about it.. i adopted a son

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 3.722.261 others charles_leclerc i think i have a good luck charm yourusername we need to go on a date before every race ❤️ tagged: yourusername

yourusername invite me out whenever, i'm ready to say yes

charles_leclerc move in with me? landonorris woaahhhh yourusername maybe a bit too soon.. charles_leclerc hm i tried. i'll try again at some point.

carlossainz55 i thought me being in your team was your good luck charm 😞

charles_leclerc you were my teammate since 2021. would have thought i'd have some more wins if you were my good luck charm carlossainz55 i guess you're right

pierregasly congrats mate!!

landonorris us 🤝 ruining max's win streak

lewishamilton so deserved! proud of you!

-

taglist: @exotic-iris13 @callsignwidow @destinyg237 @lanadelray1989 @dullypully

[clerc16]

‘tis the season ; f1 boys ⛇･:*౨ৎ

a/n: it’s cold, so have this :) also might do this w other drivers too!

summary: winter with the f1 boys

warnings: pretty much none, just fluff

↳ THIS INCLUDES . . .

charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, max verstappen, lando norris, daniel ricciardo

── ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

⛄ CHARLES LECLERC

“Amour, I am freezing,” you shiver, looking around your garden. It had just recently snowed, so Charles decided to drag you outside to make a bunch of snowmen.

Your garden was full of snowmen everywhere; small ones, big ones, unfinished ones. It was all fun and games until your nose started to go numb and your fingers felt like they were about to fall off, despite having gloves.

Charles makes his way towards you and wraps you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Your lips are cold,” you mumble into his chest. He laughs, the kind of laugh that will instantly make you smile and make your body go warm. You smile at that.

“How about we go inside and make some hot chocolate, then decorate for a little while?” He suggests. Your eyes light up at his words and you nod immediately.

“Can we also put a Christmas movie on?” You ask. He nods his head and presses a kiss on your cheek, followed by a kiss to your lips.

“Anything for you, bébé.”

⛄ LEWIS HAMILTON

You woke up to the smell of hot chocolate and pancakes coming from the kitchen, Lewis’ soft hum of a Christmas song echoing in the house. A smile immediately makes its way to your face as you get out of bed and go downstairs.

He’s too focused on cooking to notice you slip into the kitchen, but he finally takes notice when you wrap your arms around his back. He smiles and twists his body so he could see you properly.

“Good morning, love, how’d you sleep?” He asks, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“I slept really well - it was pretty cold, though,” you mutter, your eyes trailing to the pancakes he was cooking.

“I know, it snowed overnight - at least it’s an excuse to stay inside together, hm?” Lewis smiles. That damn smile of his.

You smile and nod, sitting on the counter beside the oven and taking a mug of hot chocolate.

“True, true. We should probably start decorating for Christmas, too. Oh, oh! I got a new set of baubles, they are absolutely stunning! And also a new set of various ornaments and candy canes,” you ramble, your eyes twinkling with excitement. Lewis smiles at your response and looks at you lovingly.

He wishes every day was a snow day if he got to spend it inside with you, just like this.

⛄ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max was not a major fan of going all out for Christmas. Well, that was until he met you.

“Max, pass me those ornaments, please!” You ask. The shiny, green Christmas tree was currently sat in the corner of your living room as you both decorated it, Christmas classicals softly playing in the background.

Max hands you the ornaments as he opens his own pack of baubles and starts hanging them around. Funnily enough, he puts aside all the red and yellow ones - when you asked, he claimed that they reminded him of the Ferrari colours, which were not ones he enjoyed.

“But red and yellow are basic Christmas colours!” You protested, giggling. Max shakes his head adamantly.

“Sorry, schatje, but no.”

You roll your eyes playfully as you put down your own set of ornaments and made your way over to him, cradling his face in your hand and peppering it with kisses.

“You’re cute,” you whisper as you laugh lightly at the lipstick marks on his face.

“Says you,” he whispers back, kissing your lips.

“We still need the red and yellow baubles though,” you say, reaching over to grab one of them. However, Max is faster than you, and he reaches for it first.

“Absolutely not!”

⛄ LANDO NORRIS

“You look so stupid,” you laugh as your boyfriend puts on a fake santa beard and hat he saw at the store. You were currently doing Christmas shopping, something the two of you enjoyed.

“Oh, shut up. Take a photo!”

You take your phone out as you shake your head, snapping a few photos of him. These were definitely getting posted on his next birthday.

“These are my favorite things in the world,” he says as he takes them off and placing them back on their shelf.

“Sadly, they are not what we are looking for. C’mon, we need new Christmas napkins,” you say as you pull on his arm and into a different aisle.

“Which napkins should we get?” You ask, holding out two different sets of Christmas-patterned napkins. He doesn’t respond, and you look up, expecting him to still be inspecting them - however, he is not there. Nowhere to be seen whatsoever.

“Lando? Lando!” You run through different aisles, then you find him.

You find him standing in front of the Christmas costumes aisle, looking at a huge snowman costume.

“What are you- Lando, what is this?”

“It’s absolutely amazing, darling. I think this is more important than the napkins,” he smiles as he starts taking it off the shelf. You roll your eyes and smile, unable to contain your laughter.

“You are absolutely insane.”

⛄ DANIEL RICCIARDO

“All I want for Christmas is youuuu,” Daniel sang, prancing around the house like a ballerina. You giggle at his actions as you hung the last candy cane on the tree, going back to inspect your work.

“Looks lovely, darling,” Daniel says, making his way over to you.

“Oh, I know. My most amazing piece of art,” you say jokingly as you make your way to the kitchen, getting out a box of hot cocoa powder.

“It’s perf- is that hot cocoa? Oh, this is great. Absolutely great. Where’s the gingerbread house set?” He asks excitedly, following you to the kitchen and opening multiple cupboards and drawers.

He finally gets ahold of it and smiles, placing it on the counter. Daniel was one of the most enthusiastic and passionate people you’ve ever met, especially when it came to things he loved. In this case, Christmas and sweets.

You prepare two mugs of hot cocoa as he opens the set, placing everything around the counter. You give him his mug as he kisses your forehead in thanks.

He continues to hum various songs and occasionally singing out loud as you both work on your gingerbread houses, the snow outside falling slowly.

Truly, all you both wanted for Christmas was each other. That was just about it.

[writtenfangirl]

Secrets and Good Luck Charms

Plus size!Reader, angsty turning fluffy

Listen, as a plus size woman myself, I know that the chances of an F1 driver being attracted to me is close to 0, especially when they're literally always surrounded by supermodels. But I can live in my delulu era, even for a little while.

I challenged myself to create a fic with top-tier begging and I genuinely hope I accomplished that cause this was so much fun to write.

Enjoy!

Part 2

“Charles, I think we should break up.”

The words left her in a sudden whoosh, ceasing her boyfriend mid-story. His apartment went quiet, and Y/N felt the little hairs on her arms rise but her goosebumps wasn’t from the cold. 

Charles’s luminous green eyes widened.“What?”

A part of her wished she could take the words back, snatch them from the air where they hung heavy like smoke. But she’d been building up her courage all week and she wasn’t about to back down now just because he flashed those beautiful green eyes that Charles knew she could never resist. She said the words slower, kinder. “I think we should break up.”

He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because you’re ashamed of me, Cha.”

And there was the truth, the conviction that had Y/N’s resolve strengthening. Charles could deny it all he wants but Y/N knew the truth, deep down. He was ashamed of her. It was a truth that had been sitting in her chest for the better part of 9 months and it was a truth that had begun to eat at her as their relationship progressed. 

He said his next words slowly, like a child struggling to learn new words in a language he wasn’t familiar with. “What would make you say that?” 

She kept her own tone even, betraying none of the hurt that sat heavy in her chest. “Because, Cha. We’ve been together 9 months, close to a year, and yet you have never introduced me to your mother or your brothers. Not even to your friends. No posts on social media, no mention of my existence at all.”

He frowned. “I thought you wanted your privacy.”

“I do want my privacy.”

“Then I don’t understand why you want to end things!” His voice grew in octave and Y/N could see him fighting to keep his calm.

“Because, Cha,” she said, struggling to keep the exasperation from her voice, “you’re ashamed of me. I don’t care that you post me on social media or not. I don’t care if the world knows about us. If you want to keep our relationship out of the public eye, that’s fine. I know you’re doing it to protect my feelings and I appreciate it, I do. But, you refuse to let me meet your friends or your family for that matter. They’re the people that matter to me because they’re the people that matter to you. But I’ve never met them, even after you’ve met mine! And I’m—“ she took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting the hurt that threatened to have tears spilling from her eyes. “I’ve dated enough guys to know when they’re ashamed of me.”

“I am not—“

“Don’t deny it, Cha, please. It hurts even more if you do.”

His mouth snapped shut. There was confusion in his face, and maybe a bit of hurt, but Y/N saw the truth in them too. The shame that coated his eyes like paint.

“I know I’m not conventionally beautiful like your exes.” Y/N said, her words soft. “They’re thin and slender and they’re beautiful. They really are. Models and influencers that I could never compete with and I’m okay with that because you were okay with that. But I see now that you’re not. You don’t like that I’m big, that I have a stomach and huge thighs. You don’t like that I have stretch marks and rolls. And you know what, it’s fine. If you prefer thinner girls, it’s fine. I won’t hold it against you because I know some people just have preferences and it’s okay. But I refuse to ever change myself and hate myself just to fit into a person’s standards. I’ve spent so much of my life being ashamed of my body, I can’t do that anymore, Cha. I love you and you are literally the man of my dreams but I love myself too, and I love myself too much to let someone do this to me.”

“You can’t just leave me. I love you.” Charles rushed the words out as if somehow, his words would stop Y/N.

“I don’t doubt your love for me, Cha. Not one moment. I know you love me. But you don’t take me on dates in public places where people can see us. When we do go out in public, you keep a physical distance between us. You never even so much as look at me unless you have to. I’ve never met a single one of your friends, work related or not. I don’t think you’ve even mentioned to them that you were with someone. Never met Arthur or Lorenzo and I’ve definitely never met Pascale. You love me in secret and that’s not okay.”

He reached for her hand but Y/N pulled away. The hurt that flashed in his eyes made her want to tell him to forget about her confession, forget about what she said so they can return to normal but Y/N knew she couldn’t do that. She owed it to herself to do what was best for her, to love a man who loved her so much he had to shout it from the rooftops. 

“Y/N, please—“

“It’s okay, Charles.” She stood up from where she sat, pushing down her own feelings as Charles looked up at her, disbelief in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Really, no hard feelings. Let’s just forget that this, us, ever happened. I wish you good luck with everything, I really do. I’ll pray to every God that exists that you become a world champion with Ferrari. I’ll always root for you.” 

“Y/N, wait—“

But she fled the apartment before he could say anymore.

And Charles Leclerc is out of the 2023 Belgian Grand Prix! I have to say, Crofty. Leclerc’s string of bad luck and terrible performance has really been a blow to Ferrari’s morale as of late. It really is such a horrible way to end the first half of the season, especially after such an incredible six months! It truly is such a shame. With the way things are going, what was once a tight race for the championship between Verstappen and Leclerc could simply become Verstappen’s third world championship.  Let’s hope the summer break gives him the clarity of mind he needs to get his head back in the game and the championship race back on track. 

Charles wasn’t stupid. He knew why he was losing and it wasn’t his car or his team or their strategies.

His abysmal performance could only be blamed on one person and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to blame Y/N. 

Because really, the only person to be blamed was himself. 

Because she was right. 

And he hated that she was right. 

He never thought he was the kind of person who was vain or who particularly cared about the opinions of others. He knew what it was like to be scrutinized by the media and while he justified keeping his relationship with her private by believing that Y/N was a private person, he couldn’t justify hiding her from his friends and family. 

It didn’t even really matter to him what she looked like. He loved Y/N, not for her body but for her soul. He was the moth attracted to her bright flame and he would have gladly let himself burn if it meant feeling the heat of her touch on his skin. She was kindness and warmth and compassion all rolled into one person, the kind of person people wished God made more of. 

And he found her beautiful. Yes, she wasn’t thin but he never cared about that before. Y/N was beautiful in his eyes. The kind of beauty meant to be admired in paintings. Her soft, curvaceous body and her sweet face made her beautiful. She may not have fit society’s standards but she fit his and that’s all that mattered. That’s all that should have mattered. 

So why did her words, her accusations, cut him so deep?

Was she right? Was he ashamed of her? 

“Mate, you okay?” 

Carlos’s voice broke him out of his reverie. It wasn’t like Charles to get distracted from the matter at hand, but his mind kept wandering to his girlfriend. Or rather, ex-girlfriend.

“You’ve been distracted.” Max noted. 

It was the summer break, a rare time in their hectic lives when they got a chance to take a breather. One of the drivers, Charles couldn’t remember who but he suspected it was George, had arranged a little get together for them. Alone time on a remote island in the tropics far from the prying eyes of their fans and the media. Not all of the drivers could make it, but those that could brought their girlfriends with them. The irony wasn’t lost on Charles that he was the only single man in an island full of couples. 

It was the kind of outing he would have wanted to include Y/N in but wouldn’t have, choosing instead to stay at home so they could spend some time alone. It never occurred to him if Y/N would have wanted to come. 

“I’m fine,” was his only brusque reply. 

“You don’t seem fine.” Pierre chimed in. 

Charles tried not to scowl. The other drivers were his friends as much as they were his co-workers and competitors. He grew up racing and competing with most of them. Max, George, Alex, Lando and especially Pierre, were constant figures in his life. If there was anyone who could help him, who could understand him, it would be them.

But it was so hard to accept the help when Charles was so… down. 

He looked at his friends, saw the expectant looks on their faces and sighed. 

“My girlfriend broke up with me.” The words left him before he had a chance to think about it. 

His friends’ expectant expressions turned into surprise before shifting to mild curiosity. 

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Pierre’s frown could only be described as hurt. Not that Charles could blame him. Pierre was his best friend and the first person who supported him when it came to his relationships. The fact that Charles kept his girlfriend a secret probably hurt him more than he let on.

“No one knew,” Charles said reassuringly. “Not my brothers and not maman.”

“So you were only together for a short while,” Carlos guessed. “What’s the big deal?”

Charles couldn’t blame Carlos for assuming that Y/N was only in his life for a while since he never told them she existed but the insinuation hurt all the same.

“We were together close to a year. 9 months actually.”

“That long?” Alex asked, surprised. “Usually you introduce your girlfriends after two months. You kept her a secret for nine months?”

Charles winced. What sort of excuse did he have for keeping her a secret? No flimsy excuse could ever justify what he did. 

“Why did she end things?” Max asked him. 

Dread pooled in Charles’ stomach. What does he even say? He looked at his friends, at their earnest and open expressions. He knew no matter what he says, they won’t judge him. Or at least, not to his face. 

“She ended things because she thinks I’m ashamed of her.“ Charles’ admission tasted like metal in his tongue. 

“Why would you be ashamed of her?” George asked, raising a quizzical brow.

“Because she’s nothing like my exes. She’s not thin or slender, she’s full bodied. I’ve never introduced her to any of you, not even to my family. She thinks I’m embarrassed to be seen next to her.”

“Are you?” Lando asked, judgement ripe on his face. 

“No!” Charles’ defense was quick. “I am not ashamed of her. I never have been! I’m… I’m more ashamed of myself. That I didn’t reassure her. I’m ashamed that I did something that made her feel bad. I hate that I did that to her.”

“Why didn’t you introduce her to us and your family anyway?” Carlos asked this time. 

“Because with her, I feel real. I feel different. A good different. And I know how cruel people can be. I know you might not have judged her and I know if my brothers and maman met her, they would love her. Maman, especially. But if I introduced her to you, then that’s one step closer to introducing her to the world. I was scared she couldn’t take the attention and run.”

“Is she why you’ve been so bad in track lately?” Max asked. 

Charles simply nodded before closing his eyes and rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Well there’s only one thing you can do,” George said in that tone he uses when he thinks he knows best. “You have to go after her. Go back to her and beg her to take you back.”

“And then what?” Charles snapped, unable to stop himself from voicing out the fear that’s been plaguing his mind, “She’ll still be watched by the media. Y/N is soft and she is kind. I don’t know what I would do if people say bad things about her and I know they will. I’ve dated literal supermodels and people were mean. What more someone like her? If someone insulted her in front of me, I might actually commit assault.”

“Mate, that’s up to her and you to talk about it,” Max said. “You can’t really take the choice away from her. If you love this girl, then be with her. Fuck what other people think.”

“Charles, all that matters to us is that you are happy. If she makes you happy, then we will be happy,” Pierre reassured. “You don’t have to worry about us. This girl doesn’t happen to be an ax-wielding psychopath, right?”

The rest of their group winced at Pierre’s poor attempt at a joke but Charles smiled nonetheless. Trust Pierre to always try his best to lighten the mood. “No, she’s kind of perfect actually. I really love her.”

“Then go to her so you can get your head back in the game and beat Max in the championship,” Carlos urged. 

“I don’t know about beating me,” Max smirked and the topic of their conversation shifted to playful jibes and jokes. But Charles’ mind stayed on Y/N, at his friends encouraging words and before his mind could reconcile what his body was doing, he was already on his feet, heading to one of the yachts moored on the island. 

“Where are you going?” Pierre called out as he ran from his friends, towards the woman he loved. 

Charles answered, his mind racing as fast as his heart. “To get my girl!”

When Y/N heard the frantic knocking on her apartment door at 1AM, she expected the worst. 

Which of her family had died? Which of her friends was laying in a ditch somewhere with their car wrapped around a tree? What was the tragedy so urgent, so horrific, that it couldn’t wait until the next day and had to knock on her door at 1AM in the morning?

But when she opened the door, all she saw was Charles, eyes wide and frantic. 

“Cha?” Y/N asked, not quote believing her bleary eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed her face, bringing his mouth on hers in a searing kiss that had Y/N’s eyes shuttering close and her breath leaving her lungs. 

She tasted the salt of his sweat, felt the searing heat of his hands on her skin as his tongue swept across her mouth, kissing her as if he was underwater and she was the siren able to grant him his oxygen. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her heart deciding what her mind already knew but refused to believe. 

She had missed him, wholeheartedly. And she knew that if Charles ever came knocking back, her self restraint would crumble like chalk on pavement. She would accept him, consequences be damned. 

“I’m sorry,” he panted when she pulled away, her mind racing. “I’m so sorry.”

“Charles, I don’t understand. What are you doing here? I thought you were—“

“It doesn’t matter where I was,” he insisted, his grip on her tightening, like he was afraid that letting go would cause her to disappear. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough. Cherie, tu es belle. Je suis vraiment désolé. Je n'ai jamais eu l'intention de te blesser.”

“Charles, slow down,” Y/N urged, pulling him into her tiny apartment and closing the door behind her. Her french was rudimentary at best and with how fast he was talking, she was struggling to translate what he said. “You’re speaking in French. I don’t understand.”

“You are beautiful.” He blurted, stopping Y/N in her tracks. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you but I did anyway and I hate that I hurt you. I’m not ashamed of you but I am ashamed of how I acted. Forgive me, cherie, please. Please take me back.”

“Charles—“ Her phone trilled from where it was charging in her living room and Y/N pulled away from Charles it, ignoring her best friend's flashing face and clicking the red button to silence it.

“You deserve better than me, I know,” he continued, “and I know I don’t deserve you. But I will do everything I can to at least be deserving of your forgiveness. Please, Y/N. Say you forgive me.”.

“Charles—“ her phone rang again and with a growl of frustration, Y/N grabbed it, answering it upon seeing her best friend’s face flashing. “Y/BFF/N, I can’t talk right now. I'm in the middle of—“

“Did you see?” Y/BFF/N said frantically on the other end, causing Y/N to frown. “Tell me you saw it!”

She sent Charles an apologetic look as she answered. “Saw what?”

“Check Charles’ instagram! And I mean, right the fuck now! Call me back when you do.” And she hung up. 

Y/N glanced at Charles before following her best friend’s instructions, opening up the app and searching for Charles’ account. When she saw her picture on the first square, Y/N’s eyes snapped to Charles. 

“You told your friends about us,” Y/N said, stunned.

“I told the world about us,” he clarified. “I never told anyone because I was selfish. I am not ashamed of you. I never have been, never will be. I was scared because introducing you to my family and my friends means that you’re one step closer to being known to the world and I was scared you would run from all of it. From the fame, from the mean comments. It’s happened before and I didn’t want it to happen again, especially not to you. I’m not naive. If people can be mean and ruthless to girls who look like Charlotte and Alexandra, what more you? I thought I was protecting you. I don’t ever want you to leave. Please, come back to me.“

“I can’t believe you told everyone about us.” Y/N still sounded dumbfounded, even to her own ears. 

Charles gave her watery smile. “People should know about you and the love I have for you.”

Y/N wasn't entirely sure what it is about Charles that could have her melting into a puddle on the floor. She's been with good looking men before and none of them ever had that effect on her. But his confession, his conviction, had her abandoning her phone's incessant notifications, her arms automatically wrapping around Charles' neck, pulling him to her. His hands rested on her waist, ghosting down her back.

And, despite herself, Y/N felt her lips pulling into a soft smile. “You know, when I went to bed a while ago, I wasn’t expecting to see my ex knocking at my door, begging me to take him back at one in the morning. Especially since I know he’s suppose to be somewhere in the tropics on vacation.“ 

“Begging?” Charles raised a brow, almost in challenge, a small smile playing at his lips. Mirth and hope mixed in his green eyes and Y/N knew that there was never any chance she couldn’t accept his apology. 

She nodded, her smile turned teasing. “Oh, yeah, definitely begging. Groveling at my feet, asking for forgiveness. Never seen anything like it, to be honest. You know, some girls have a thing for that and I never really understood it before but now, I kinda do. I might not forgive him just so I can listen to him beg again.” 

“You are a cruel woman,” Charles said as he pulled her closer to him, his hands warm on her waist, his nose barely touching her own as his breath tickled her mouth.

“Is that what you’d call the woman willing to forgive you?” She batted her eyes, feigning innocence. “Even after she knows you’re only begging for forgiveness because of your losing streak? You did always call me your good luck charm.”

“You are my good luck charm.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in those things?”

“When it comes to you, I’ll believe in anything and anyone,” he said seriously before he grinned, wide and infectious. The kind of grin that promised an evening of debauchery and laughter. “So you forgive me?”

“Well, you did tell the world that I was your girlfriend so now I have to forgive you and take you back. I wouldn’t want to make a liar out of Charles Leclerc.”

He smiled triumphantly and this time, when Charles dipped his head for another searing kiss, Y/N didn’t pull away.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Unspoken Attraction CL16

The third chapter is here, let me knwo what you think of it, enjoy :)

Chapter 3: Protective Instincts 

The afternoon wore on, and the paddock buzzed with its usual pre-race energy. Teams made last-minute preparations, journalists chased soundbites, and fans lingered near the motorhomes, hoping for glimpses of their favorite drivers. Amidst this chaos, Pierre Gasly weaved through the crowd, his jaw tight and his expression clouded with frustration. 

Pierre wasn’t usually one to panic. He was calm under pressure, a trait that served him well on and off the track. But this was different. His sister, Y/N, had been by his side all morning—until she wasn’t. He’d spent the last twenty minutes searching for her, his anxiety growing with each passing second. 

He turned a corner near the Ferrari paddock, his worry briefly giving way to relief when he finally spotted her. But the relief was short-lived. 

There she was, sitting on a bench near the Ferrari motorhome, chatting and laughing with none other than Charles Leclerc. Pierre’s stomach sank. Y/N’s body language was relaxed, her smile bright, and Charles… Charles was leaning in slightly, his expression soft, his signature charm dialed up to maximum. 

Pierre felt a surge of anger. Not only had he been worried sick, but now he had to contend with the sight of his sister and his friend in what looked suspiciously like a moment. 

“Y/N!” Pierre’s voice cut through the air like a whip, startling both Y/N and Charles. 

Y/N turned, her smile fading as she saw the thunderous expression on her brother’s face. “Pierre! I—” 

“What the hell, Y/N?” he snapped, storming over to them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You can’t just disappear like that!” 

Y/N stood, her cheeks flushing. “I didn’t disappear, Pierre. I just—” 

“And you,” Pierre said, rounding on Charles, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here with her?” 

Charles straightened, his usual calm demeanor faltering under the intensity of Pierre’s glare. “Relax, Pierre. She was feeling overwhelmed, so I helped her find a quieter spot. That’s all.” 

Pierre scoffed, his frustration boiling over. “That’s all? It sure doesn’t look like that’s all, Charles. Do you think I don’t see what’s going on here?” 

“Pierre, stop it,” Y/N said, her voice rising in protest. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculous?” Pierre turned to her, his voice heavy with disbelief. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? And now I find you here, alone with him? Are you serious, Y/N?” 

“Pierre,” Charles interjected, his tone calm but firm, “you’re overreacting. I wasn’t trying anything. We were just talking.” 

Pierre’s eyes narrowed further, his jaw tightening. “Talking? Is that what you call it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like flirting.” 

“Pierre!” Y/N exclaimed, her face flushing with embarrassment. “You’re being unfair!” 

“Am I?” Pierre shot back. He looked at Charles, his voice hard. “You might be my friend, Charles, but I know you. I know how you are with women. And I’ll be damned if I let you treat my sister the same way.” 

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and sharp. Charles’s expression darkened, and for a moment, he didn’t reply. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and controlled. “That’s not fair, Pierre. I would never disrespect Y/N like that.” 

Pierre crossed his arms, his eyes blazing. “You better not. Because she’s not like the girls you’re used to, Charles. She’s not just some fling. She’s my sister.” 

“I know that,” Charles said, his tone softer now, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his frustration. “And I respect her. More than you think.” 

Pierre shook his head, his anger unabated. “Respect her all you want, Charles, but stay away from her. She’s off-limits. End of discussion.” 

Y/N stared at her brother, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Pierre, you can’t just—” 

“Y/N, go back to the Alpine garage,” Pierre said, his voice firm. “Now.” 

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like she might argue. But then she glanced at Charles, who gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. Reluctantly, she turned and walked away, leaving the two men alone. 

After the Race 

The race had come and gone, but Pierre’s anger hadn’t faded. Once the media duties were done, he sought out Charles, finding him near the Ferrari motorhome. Charles was leaning against the side, his head tilted back as he stared at the darkening sky. 

“Charles,” Pierre said sharply. 

Charles straightened, his expression guarded as he turned to face his friend. “Pierre.” 

“We need to talk,” Pierre said, his tone brooking no argument. 

Charles nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “Alright. Let’s talk.” 

Pierre stepped closer, his eyes hard. “I meant what I said earlier. Y/N is off-limits.” 

Charles exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. “I heard you the first time.” 

“Good,” Pierre said, his voice low but firm. “Because I know you, Charles. You’re my friend, but I’ve seen how you are with women. You charm them, you have your fun, and then you move on. That’s fine for you, but not for Y/N. She deserves better.” 

Charles flinched at the words, the accusation cutting deeper than he cared to admit. “You think I don’t know that?” he said, his voice quieter now. “You think I don’t know she deserves better?” 

Pierre frowned, caught off guard by the raw emotion in Charles’s voice. “Then why—” 

“Because I can’t help it, Pierre,” Charles interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “I know it’s wrong. I know it’s complicated. But I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s… she’s different.” 

Pierre’s eyes narrowed, suspicion and frustration warring within him. “Different? You’ve known her for years, Charles. She’s my little sister.” 

“I know,” Charles said, his voice soft but strained. “And maybe that’s why this feels so… impossible. But she’s not the same girl we used to tease and protect. She’s… she’s beautiful, Pierre. And smart. And kind. And she makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time.” 

Pierre stared at him, his jaw tightening. “Then do the right thing and stay away from her. She’s not just another girl, Charles. She’s my sister. My family. And if you care about me—about her—you’ll respect that.” 

Charles closed his eyes briefly, his chest tightening with the weight of Pierre’s words. He wanted to argue, to fight for the connection he felt with Y/N, but deep down, he knew Pierre was right. 

“I get it,” Charles said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll stay away.” 

Pierre studied him for a moment, his expression softening slightly. “Good. Because if you hurt her, Charles… I don’t think I could forgive you.” 

“I won’t,” Charles said, the words heavy with heartbreak. “I promise.” 

As Pierre walked away, Charles leaned back against the motorhome, his head falling into his hands. His heart ached with the weight of what he was giving up. For the first time in years, he’d found someone who made him feel alive, and now, he had to let her go. 

Because no matter how much he cared for Y/N, she wasn’t just anyone. 

She was Pierre’s sister. And she was off-limits. 

[wisteriagoesvroom]

hello hello! Are you still doing fluffy prompts? If so may I please ask for cuddling in a bathtub or something?

I'm not annoning I have no shame or dignity left

so your idea spurred another idea. it is tangential, but i hope it still delivers on the Soft Vibes. thank u for prompting 🫂

don't take too much (off of me)

📝 1.3k words 💟 lestappen 🟢 rated G 🔗 also on ao3

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not.”

Charles twirls the scissors between two fingers, hoping that his posture is authoritative enough that Max will quit squirming in his chair. They are in the middle of lockdown and neither is sure when their tentative friendship turned into this – at first it was innocuous knocks on the door to play FIFA, then it was to borrow a jar of pesto here and there. Then, trampling into each other’s apartments. Max knowing to wipe his shoes on the carpet, Charles helping pick up cat food on his regular run to the grocery store (in line with lockdown mandates, they’re only allowed to go to the store twice a week.)

And now they are here. Max sitting on a dining room chair, leaning back, a makeshift cowl around his shoulders that Charles had stolen from his maman’s salon. Max tries not to twitch or move, knowing that the process of hair cutting is a delicate process. Sure, he has sat for a haircut many times before, but never under the hands of this erratic ball of energy that is Charles Leclerc, who is currently brandishing a blade like a child would a spork.

“Do you trust me, or not?” Charles says. Indignant.

“I’m here, am I not?”

“Unhappily, it seems.”

“Kerel. You have wavy hair. You look like a Disney prince. Me? One wrong move of the scissors and there will be memes in my name.”

“But it’s kind of fun when they are making the memes about you. No?”

Max glowers. “It is when they’re nice ones.”

Charles makes a noise between a snort and a guffaw. Charles perched on a stool behind him, so he can’t see the other man’s expression. But when Max looks to the corner of his living room, Max can see Charles’s face in the reflection there. Just a sliver of his face, in profile. Max expects to find Charles’s eyes crinkled, maybe teasing. Max is used to it, after all. Being the an easy target, a convenient villain. Because a lion never roars back. Not outside of the track, anyway. Even if he sometimes hides in his apartment with his cats and licks his wounds instead.

Max’s shoulders tense, hackles up. But Charles’s eyes are very soft. The punchline never comes.

“Well. I think you very handsome, Maximilian.” Charles says.

Oh. Max’s throat bobs. He doesn’t really know what to say. He’s been called many things in the past. Handsome isn’t necessarily one of them. And somehow it has a greater weight, a different bearing, when it comes from Charles. Because Charles is someone he’s begun to acknowledge that he cares about, perhaps a great deal.

“And now! We are doing the short at the sides and long at the top, oui?” Charles says. Snapping straighter in his makeshift hairdresser’s stool, energy whipping through him like lightning. Changing the topic as if he hadn’t just confessed to Max the very same thing that Max has been thinking about Charles for weeks – or if he’s honest – years, now.

“Whatever you do, make sure it’s tidy, yeah?”

“Come on mate. I am always careful.”

“Like you were when you drove into the Copse wall.”

“That was an isolated incident. Due to a combination of unexpected mechanical factors.”

“Pfft. Okay. Save that response for Sky.”

“You’re nearly as annoying as them, sometimes.” Charles says, frown gentle before he lifts the scissors again. 

Comfortably back in their banter-y element, the chatter continues. Charles is careful about his work, the blades moving slowly and carefully. And what Charles lacks in finesse he makes up for in social skills, clearly inheriting this from his parents. Talking and filling the silence comfortably, wandering from topics as diverse as sailing on the Monaco coastline, to David Guetta’s recent bizarre fundraiser video, to the latest model of automatic cat feeder that has become available on the market. Charles’s fingers brush his jaw occasionally to adjust the angle, scissors glinting in the afternoon sun. Max deliberately avoids eye contact, only glimpsing at him occasionally to share a laugh. 

At the end, Charles uses a towel to brush the loose hair off Max’s neck. They both get up to stand at Max’s living room mirror, surveying Charles’s handiwork. Their reflections loom large, shoulder to shoulder at the same height. Besides, Max isn’t really looking at himself, and neither is Charles, either.

“It’s good, yes?” Charles says. Low, conspiratorial.

Max’s grip tightens on the towel that he’s holding. His pulse etches up. The whole afternoon has been gentle touch, contact that aches because the pandemic has made him even more pathetically wanting than usual. Contact that he’s been trying very hard not to think about or keep for more nefarious purposes later. 

The other man's gaze is warm in the mirror. Max thinks of fresh cut grass at Imola, his favourite corner in Silverstone.

“Yes.” Max says. It’s good. The haircut, him, them. This strange rhythm they’ve found together. The quiet space of each other’s apartment, each other’s company, temporarily safe from the world. The trust offered to one another: enough to let them run you into gravel and trust that it was worth the fight. Enough to hold a blade in your hand and only let one other person in the world come near you with it. Risk, and promise.

Then he’s turning towards Charles. Charles mirroring him. The light is bright and the sky blue in the window, but all Max can see for a moment is Charles’s face, his half open mouth ripe like a plum. The scent, this close, of Charles’s carrefour laundry softener and woody aftershave.

And they’re leaning towards each other, a boundary they might finally cross, let the cards fall where they fucking may, when—

A yowl. A screech. A mighty crash. 

“Sassy!” Max says, practically jumping out of his skin.

Both men whip around at the source of the noise. Sassy’s frozen on a shelf, a beige mass with yellow eyes. Paw half up, looking guilty – if a cat could look guilty– at a trophy that he has just knocked off a counter. Jimmy, on the other hand, is absolutely nowhere to be seen, already having escaped the scene of the crime.

Max groans into his hands. But then Charles is laughing, an asthmatic penguin noise that Max has really come to like. It melts the fire in Max a little, amusement tempering his frustration. (The trophy is not the source of Max’s current frustration, but Charles does not need to know that.) 

“I shall get the broom.” Charles says.

“Thanks.”

So the moment passes. They clean up. On their hands and knees, near, but not touching. The broken trophy is the one he got for his overtake on Nasr in his first year in F1, and offers a chance for them to reminisce about their races. For Max to joke a little about whether Charles will get his first WDC when the pandemic is over, both of them excited about the future, a future with both of them in it, still trying, still racing each other to the brink. It’s much easier to do this, than to talk about the almost-kiss, or break the seal on this moment that they know won’t last forever.

Debris cleared, and the cats shooed into the study, Charles mentions that he should go return his equipment to his mother. They stand at the doorway for a moment that stretches too long.

Max doesn’t know how long they have. Of this, of each other. Of being left alone, of the world not encroaching with cameras or demands for explanations or labels for what they are. Of getting to know each other not as competitors, but on their own terms, in their own time.

But for a long time, Max will always remember this moment. The two of them, a dining chair. His crazy cats, Charles’s toothy smile. Their partial reflections in the mirror, an afternoon unfolding with potential.

A warm hand on his back to let him know he’s cared for, and looked after.

[bonbonly]

pairing: charles leclerc x f!reader ; tw: rough sex, lots of degrading

sugardaddy!charles leclerc just sent you a whopping check of 5 grand. he doesn't really say much to you during the day, but during the night he always demands that you call him right before you go to bed. he wants to hear your sweet voice. if he's having a good day, he'll ask you how your day went, what exciting things you did. his french accent's sounds like honey in your ears, and his little chuckle gets you all tipsy right before you sleep. if he's having a bad day, though? prepare to spend the entire night with your fingers in your cunt, and he's on FaceTime, making sure you don't cum without his permission. he wants to see you beg for him, to have him be your sole attention. your mind should only be on him and nothing else. who gave a fuck about your class tomorrow? for fuck's sake, he's paying your tuition to even attend those classes!

on one particular day when you're leaving class, he surprisingly texts you and asks if he can drop by your university. it's been a few weeks since he's last seen you. he has some gifts for you and he's planned to take you to some fancy restaurant.

your foolish self leaves him on read because your friends offered to finally take you to this concert, their brothers were also tagging along. and who doesn't love to ogle at their friend's hot brother? so not only did you leave him on read and ignore all his plans, you also forgot to call him right before you went to bed... which was at around 5 am in the morning after your friends and you partied the whole night. you might've also gave one of the boys a very sloppy blowjob in secret, but you were drunk and having fun, it didn't matter!

when you wake up the next morning, you realize what happened and in absolute fear of incurring his wrath, you don't call or text charles at all for the entire week. you didn't want to deal with him at the moment, you cared for him a lot of course you did! but you figured he'd let it slide in a week. he likes to text you a simple "sweet dreams mon ange" right before bed no matter what mood he was in; surely he'd get over it, right?

but then, this semester's housing hasn't been paid yet. charles was always on top of his game, he'd never wait until the deadline to pay. you figure that he must've forgot, so you call him but he's sent you straight to voicemail. with a frown, you hop into your car (a porsche 718 boxster that charles generously bought for you one night) and drive over to where he lives. you haven't seen your sugar daddy for a whole month now! you skip over to his front door, knocking eagerly because you desperately wanted to know why he didn't pay your housing.

you barely have time to speak because as soon as he opens that door, he's grabbing your arm and throwing you onto a sofa in the living room.

"oh i should've known you would be running to me as soon as i didn't pay one thing, pute" he snarls, and you're frowning at him. oh you made such a big mistake ignoring him for what? a month now?

"i go out of my way to buy you that car, to buy you expensive clothes... i pay for your tuition and housing, i pay for everything and yet you don't bother to notice me? i'm done, get out of my sight!" he yells, and you're scrambling to latch onto his feet,

"wait, wait, no, please! charles!" you notice his eyebrow raise at you in a condescending manner and you gulp, "mr. leclerc, i mean. please, please, i was just worried you'd get mad the first day when I ignored your text! i didn't mean for it to get out of hand!"

charles isn't convinced one bit, he's staring at you in frustration as a hand runs over his face. he snaps his fingers, gesturing for you to get up on your feet, "i don't think i can accept your words, you've destroyed my-"

"i'll suck your cock!" you blurt out, getting on your knees immediately. and he's chuckling darkly at your words, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as his other hand cups your chin to look up at him, his thumb running across your bottom lip,

"i could spend fortunes on your education, and the only thing you'd know is to please my cock, isn't that right ma chérie?" there's still an edge in his tone, but he sighs out loud, "i don't want your mouth, no i want your pussy, get up and head to my bedroom."

and you do so because you have your own selfish reasons, to be honest. you need him to pay for housing, you didn't want to end up living on the streets!

but as he's fucking you, his pace brutal and unforgiving, he never once mentions his deal to pay. he has your hair in a tight makeshift ponytail, watching your ass bounce with each thrust as his other hand is rubbing on your clit. you're cumming for the umpteenth time, bedsheets soaked with your sweat and juice. he has no signs of stopping, no he's going to have his fill after a month of not seeing you. your ass is red from all the spanking, you can hardly lay on your back because it's so bruised! your voice is hoarse from all your screaming, but he did offer you his cum to soothe the pain in your throat!

your hands are grabbing the sheets below you, sobbing uncontrollably as he's relentless. he's saying the vilest things above you as his hand now wraps around your throat,

"you're such a slut. maybe i should stop calling you mon ange, no you are far from angel. far from it. i bet you'd spread your legs for anyone you see, hm?"

you're shaking your head, telling him that he's the only man you ever think about the only man you ever wanted!

"don't fucking lie to me, i know what you did with those boys at the concert," and now you're confused as to how he even knew about that! he's shaking his head with a laugh as he watches you glance over your shoulder to look at him, "i should punish you harder for even thinking about sinking that mouth of yours onto another man - no - boy's cock, you whore. you just can't live without someone's cock inside you, can't you?"

"here's what's going to happen, you're going to talk to your housing and talk about cancelling for the term," his thrusts become harsher, and you're silently screaming at how good he feels, "i'm not paying for housing anymore. no, you're staying with me from now on. i can't trust you anymore, you'll throw yourself onto any man you see. you'll stay with me and every night before you go to bed, you're going to take my cock like the good little slut that you are, understood?"

you nod your head, milking his cock once more as he's filling you up with ropes of his cum. he groans out loud, head dipping to see your spent body. after he cleans you up, he has you sleep with him for the night, one arm around your waist as he pulls you closer to his frame. he inhales your smell, nuzzling into your neck; he could surely get used to do this now.

[thepersonnamedsam]

prologue

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

summary: where charles met loire for the first time

word count: 2.4k

warnings: none

note: i am sooooo excited for you to read this, i hope you are too

masterlist / taglist

The wind blew through her hair and made it hard for her to see. Her eyes were blinking fast trying to stay open. She breathed in and then out, closed her eyes for a second and opened them again to see the plaza before her. She looked at the people; there was a guy with a baby blue shirt on, his belly was huge and he was licking away on an ice cream. Next to him was standing a rather timid woman, her green maxi skirt was flowing in the wind and she looked at the man. Children were playing around and parents were sitting on the benches. Next to her was a young woman with shaggy dyed blonde hair. Her smile was huge and showed her withe teeth. In front of her was a cajon; a wooden box you could drum on. Next to her was her best friend Chelsea waiting to busk the place away.

The guitar in her hand was suddenly heavy. She felt the weight in her arms, how the strap did almost nothing to support the weight of the guitar. The microphone stood before her, long and proud and just waited to be used. The speakers, one on each side of them waited patiently, at least it seemed like it.

She brushed some hair out of her face and turned to look at Chelsea. Her eyes searched her green ones. „When do you think they’re coming? Shouldn’t they be here already“ Nervousness laced through her voice. She looked once more at the people, to see if anyone was waiting inpatient for them to start playing. Chelsea only shrugged - she wished she had her carelessness.

Chelsea was a woman who was never stressed, there was not a thing that could bother her - well actually maybe animal cruelty or body shaming or misogyny or homophobia or - you name it. But still, she was a young woman who was just living her life to the fullest.

„Don’t worry Loire, they’re coming“, Chelsea reassured her. She closed her eyes once again, trying to calm down. The breeze was loud around her ears, but she still heard the people talking. She also heard some pigeons or other birds making sounds. She heard the sea crashing against the shore, something she only heard if she really listened to it. Her ears perked up when she heard someone laughing - Milo! It was Milo who was laughing alongside Parker.

I swear to god, if they don’t show up with their instruments I will twist their heads around until it makes that god awful snap sound.

She opened her eyes to look around the plaza to find them walking towards her and Chelsea. Big smiles on their faces and their instruments. Milo carried their keyboard and Parker had his guitar on his back. No murder was going to happen.

Loire smiled when the two approached me them, she couldn’t hold a grudge against them even if she wanted to. They were her best friends, how could she ever be mad at them. Milo went and hugged Loire, whispering their apology in to her ear. When they moved to Chelsea and kissed her, Parker went up to Loire with a shit eating grin on his face. He didn’t even apologise for being late, he was always late and Loire knew that, but she always worried about them.

„Hello belle, how are you?“, he asked her after their hug. She glared at him, but the small smile tugging around her lips was a give away that she wasn’t actually angry.

They connected Parker’s guitar to the amp, the same with Milos keyboard and they were ready to jam. Expect that the moment Chelsea started counting down, Loire met the most gorgeous eyes she has ever seen; green and full of wonder and curiosity. The face that belonged to the eyes was just as handsome, if not more. His lips pink and curled to a light smile. The stranger looked at her just as much as she was looking at him. Her breath hitched as she realised that he was staring back at her.

The world stopped around her and it seemed like a ray of light was shining down on him. He stopped in his tracks and waited until they started playing.

What kind of romance novel is going on here?

Only then she realised that she was supposed to start singing. She looked apologetic at Chelsea and her other band members and they started again. The tunes of Whole Again by Atomic Kitten started to play. Loire closed her eyes once again, took a deep breath in and started to sing.

When Loire sang, she was in her own world. Nothing mattered and nothing was going on, just her singing and the feeling that music gave her. The tingles through her body and the warm sensation forming in her gut - music was her everything and there’s never gonna be anything that could top this feeling.

Charles was looking at the band. He should’ve already been at his mothers, his yearly haircut was due, but something drew him to them, no, something drew him to her. Her brown eyes, her curls and her smile. Everything he saw was just magnificent, there was no other word that could describe her. And when she started singing, god, he wanted to save her voice and let it play out when he couldn’t sleep. So smooth and easy to listen to. He too had to close his eyes for a moment, the sensation too overwhelming.

Her voice reached his ears and his brain turned the waves into hormones, emotions of you want. Emotions he hasn’t felt in a long time; happiness and love. Charles was content, even just for the moment. Content with his life, with his recent change from Alpha Sauber to Ferrari, he felt content the way his mum cut his hair and the way that Arthur was still cheering him on from the sidelines. Even though his life was mostly purely stressed and so, so heavy, in this moment he felt light. Her voice smoothed him out and whispered new life into his body.

He opened his eyes again, hers still closed. He tried to get a better look at her. He counted 47 freckles on her nose and cheeks, well only from afar. She had 7 loose strands, probably from all the wind. Her mouth moved with the words and he saw the slight gap between the two front teeth - so little, people mostly didn’t notice, but Charles did. He was fascinated by her. The way her arms were stretched out and moved with the music. The bat wings her sleeves created. The way she smiled at the lyrics and just sang carefree. Her body looked like she would start to dance any second - and he was prepared to dance with her.

The music stopped and she opened her eyes again, he was still shamelessly starring at her and she blushed. The rose colour slowly started to creep up her neck and finally reached her cheeks. Charles noticed how she couldn’t stand his gaze anymore. The drummer started to count again and Loire was mouthing something. Charles snapped out of his haze and listened to her words.

„Merci, thank you all for listening to us! We’re Jehanne and this is an original song.“

Loire risked a glance at the handsome stranger, only to realise that he was still starring at her. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. It almost raced. Why should this absolute god of a man stare at her? But there was no time to think such thoughts, as Chelsea already started the beat of their very first own song; Look at us now (Honeycomb). Chelsea wrote the song the evening she met Milo. She was head over heals for them. So that evening when she came home from her hike - where she met Milo - she wrote it down in ten minutes, ran over to Loire’s appartement and showed her the lyrics. Loire instantly had a melody in mind and grabbed her guitar.

It turned into a whole writing session. The two sat on the ground, Loire with her guitar in her hand and Chelsea with her pen and book in front of her. When Loire first sang the chorus, Chelsea started to cry, which she almost never did, well not in front of people. Loire knew it wasn’t a song to be sung alone, so she asked Chelsea who she wrote it about. And she told her about this person she met on her hike and how they looked so good but so shy at the same time. And how she went up to them and just chatted about the view and how they instantly clicked. The world was not moving the moment Milo and Chelsea met for the first time. Chelsea told Loire how Milo played the keys and how his friend Parker, who was struggling to move up the mountain, played the guitar and how they were looking for some people to jam. That’s when Loire knew, that she had to sing the song with Milo - and that they had to start a band.

Parker laughed when Milo told him about the idea Chelsea pitched them. Start a band with two complete strangers? Yeah, no. But Milo reasons with how Chelsea was their love of their life and how they would meet Loire either way. And how they could finally persuade their dream of playing music together. But Parker still only laughed, until he heard Loire sing for the first time. His reaction was similar to Charles‘ right now. Amazed and star struck. He instantly agreed. Loire gave Parker her chords to Honeycomb and they started to arrange them to fit his playing style. Chelsea and Milo started on the arrangement on the keyboard and after about two hours, they had a song worth recording.

„We unraveled a long time ago

We lost and couldn't let it go

I wish it was easy but it isn't so“, he heard her sing. And he felt the lyrics deep in his chest, even though he couldn’t place why he felt them, he still did. He saw her eyes scan the people around him, trying hard not to look at him. He saw how her eyes got stuck on a figure behind him. He slowly looked around and saw a young woman standing there and even though the temperature reached a high of 27°C that day, she was still wearing black jeans and a long sleeve. He turned back around to look at Loire, only to notice the watery eyes and the pain in her voice.

Loire didn’t think she would show up. She thought she would never see her again, after what she said to her. She thought Freya scrambled away and planned her getaway long before it all happened. And she was sorry, sorry for the way she spoke to her and sorry how she treated her. But she was glad she was there, it might be a good sign. A sign she would join the band again. But Loire didn’t want to get her hopes up, after all what she’d done.

„I swear to god Freya, grow the fuck up. Did you really think I would want to have a serious relationship with you?“ It was the last thing Loire said to Freya. It happened after they had made a demo and the last song they recorded was Honeycomb. Freya had asked Loire if the lyrics were about her, but Loire only laughed. She didn’t laugh because she found it funny that Freya would think that, no, she laughed because she thought she knew it was the love song for Chelsea and Milo. But Freya caught the laugh as a threat and now at something nice.

„You know what? Fuck you, Loire. I thought we had something, seriously, all the dinners and the kisses“, Freya screamed at Loire, deep in her heart she knew that her and Loire would never work out, that’s why it hurt much more as the reality became the truth.

In the end, everyone knew Freya would join the band once again, as she never really left it. She only had to find her calmness again before she could face the reality once again.

Charles sensed some uneasiness between the two, but forced himself to only pay attention to the singer in front of him. He ignored the ringing in his jeans. He ignored the looks and whispers he received. And he also ignored the time. The only thing that mattered was Loire. And as they finished their set, he was determined to talk to her. With long strides and a smug look on his face, he made his way over to her, but his facade all crumbled when she first smiled at him. His legs turned into pudding and his heart started beating. What does this woman do to him?

„Hi there“, she smiled at him. She wasn’t unfamiliar with people approaching her after a busking set, but this time it was different, this time it was Charles who approached her and not some people.

He smiled shyly at her and raised his hand to wave. She smiled at him in return. Charles wanted to open his mouth and say how much her voice touched him, but he just couldn’t find the right words. And as he finally had them laid out in front of him, he finally noticed the constant ringing of his phone in his pocket. He excused himself to answer the phone.

The voice yelled at him and even Loire could pick up a few words, such as; get down here, now! and, if you think you won’t get away with it, you’re wrong. He completely forgot his mission and took off. But he hoped she would be there tomorrow too and that he could talk to her then. Only to find out that she wasn’t there the next day, and the day after. And as he had to travel to the next race, he had long forgotten why he had wandered to that plaza that weekend.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @whatthefuckerr

[hourcat]

Piarles + nr1 ("I'm not leaving.") ❤️💙

Another year, another DNF in Monaco. Charles should know better.

Hell, maybe he should start penciling it in on his calendar.

In a way, he's almost used to it--tragedy in the place he loves most in the world, the rug being ripped out from underneath him every single time. It's been eight years, now, that he's been a Formula One driver, and every single year, Monaco has been just out of reach in one way or another. Somehow the hurt is more powerful than the joy he'd felt standing on the podium last year under the WDC lights. In 2025, Charles Leclerc had been the greatest racing driver in the world.

Here and now, splayed out on his couch back home in his apartment only a year later, Charles Leclerc had crashed out of the Monaco Grand Prix on lap 12. It makes him sick. He's Ferrari's lead driver, he's the only Monegasque in Formula 1 history to have ever won it all, and fuck, he's almost 30. He should be better. He should be better. Instead, all he is is this: sad, angry, and being swallowed up by his couch when he hears his front door knob jiggling. Maybe his mother is bringing by the dinner she's been talking about for weeks. Maybe Lorenzo forgot his camera in the guest bedroom.

"Charlo," Pierre's voice finds him like a heat-seeking missile, striking him right in the chest. Helpless to the sound, Charles grabs the pillow closest to him and crushes it to his chest, burrowing his face into it for a moment as his best friend's footsteps get closer and closer. "Why are you here?"

"Leave me alone, Pierre," he grumbles into the cushion. "Don't you have a podium to celebrate?" It comes out more bitter-sounding than Charles had intended it to, admittedly, but it's true: Pierre ended the day P3, according to the app on Charles' phone. Mercedes has been good for him so far this year--he'd be happier for his best friend if he weren't so fucking miserable about Monaco again.

Pierre plops himself onto the couch beside him. "No," he hums. "Stewards gave me a 5 second time penalty for track limits. Don't feel like celebrating P5 very much today, so." He knocks his elbow into Charles' arm. "Wanted to check in on the Prince of Monaco, considering he disappeared before I got a chance to see him once on track today."

Oops. "Sorry," Charles mutters back. He lifts his head to give Pierre an understanding nod. "Sorry about that." He shakes his head. "But I am fine, just--come back later, Pierre, we can have dinner or something. I just want to be alone right now." Maybe wallowing in it is what it takes to break whatever stupid curse he's got: maybe by pretending to give in, give up, the curse will be tricked and Charles will get it right next year. He can't do that if Pierre is here, because...well, because Pierre is Pierre, and Charles loves him more than he should and would never put him through whatever he'll turn into. It feels like a monster inside him.

But Pierre, like always, is just...thickheaded. "Hm," he says out loud, leaning back into the cushions. "No." Firm. Decided. Impossibly annoying.

Charles turns to glare at him. "What do you mean, no. Pierre, I just want to be by myself. Please leave."

Pierre shrugs back at him, looking like the picture of nonchalance. "I heard you, calamar," he says casually, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "But I'm not leaving." He's not smug--not being an asshole intentionally or anything, from the look on his face, but Charles is suddenly full of rage looking at him. He's too comfortable here in Charles' space, and it's not safe with how close to bursting Charles feels he is.

"What the fuck," he snaps. "Pierre--"

"Charles, we have been best friends for most of our lives. I know you." He's so calm as he speaks. Charles swallows, the rage gone just as quickly as it'd surfaced. "You say you want to be alone, but I don't think that's true. You are upset, petit. Today was terrible, and I know you think you're cursed, but being alone with those feelings is not the best way to get out from under them."

Pierre knows him almost all the way through. The pit in Charles' stomach just gets deeper. "Pierre--" he tries again, but Pierre claps a hand to his arm, warm and gentle, and keeps talking because of course he does.

"So I'm not going to leave you alone. You can be as upset as you like, yell and shout and cry and do whatever you need to. But I am not leaving." He squeezes Charles gently. "I love you, Charles. More than I even know how to tell you. You are my best friend, and I won't let you carry this all on your own."

It stings to hear an I love you from the person he's been in love with all these years, the words bleeding with platonic intent as they wash over him. But he caves to Pierre all the same, because...because yes. This is his best friend, and his best friend is right. Breaking down won't help if there's no one to hear his thoughts all come out at once. With a groan, he leans over, falling clumsily into Pierre's lap with the pillow still clutched to his chest. "I hate this sport," he whispers, throat suddenly tight with emotion. "I hate it, Pierre, I hate it."

Pierre's fingers thread in Charles' hair and tug gently once before starting to mindlessly massage at his scalp. It feels good. It feels right. "I'm sorry, cheri," Pierre murmurs in reply. He doesn't say anything else. Charles doesn't think he needs to--and then he feels the press of lips to the crown of his head, and any thoughts he might've had just fall away altogether. All he knows is Pierre.

[mirrorball-leclerc]

i did something bad - part three

FERRARI MULTI-34

masterlist//previous//next

ABU DHABI 2023

daniel ricciardo PARTY FOR CHECO AFTER THE RACE!!

charles leclerc it's thursday, the race isn't until sunday.

daniel ricciardo i'm planning ahead, checo, we still expect you at races once you leave us.

sergio perez i will try my best to be at races, but no promises.

alex albon AFTER THIS WEEK MY MAN IS FREE!! WAR IS OVER!!

pierre gasly IT'S TIME TO REJOICE!!

charles leclerc i think you two are being dramatic

teagan horner DOUBLE PARTY! ONE ON MONDAY, ONE ON SUNDAY! HE'S FREE!! CHECO WE'RE GONNA MISS YOU!!!

charles leclerc yup, you're all being too dramatic.

liam lawson the fia wants carlos dead. have any of you looked at the press schedule for this week?

daniel ricciardo what were they thinking putting him in same room as charles and max?

teagan horner that one of them is going to snap and get fined and dsq'd for the race this week?

mark webber if it comes down to it, pull a seb, multi-21 style

sebastian vettel oh for fucks sake mark

logan sargeant does anyone know why alex keeps shouting 'war is over' at the top of his lungs? i would like to sleep a few more hours, it's 6am.

max verstappen no clue charles leclerc no idea daniel ricciardo i haven't got a clue pierre gasly isn't alex always doing weird shit? sergio perez i've given up questioning why most of you do half the things you do yuki tsunoda ask george

george russell all of you are acting weird, what do you know?

pierre gasly aren't you basically dating alex? you should know.

george russell first of all, fuck you. second of all, i have a girlfriend. third of all, i don't know why alex does everything he does.

alex albon WAAARRR IIIISSS OVEERR!!!! THE SHACKLES HAVE BEEN BROKEN! THIS IS THE PART WHEN I BREAK FREE!

daniel ricciardo ALEX! HAVE SOME DECENCY MAN!

lewis hamilton i don't think we want to know

oscar piastri this is too much for a thursday morning at 6am. why are any of you up?

pierre gasly scheming with yuki

esteban ocon regretting ever becoming an f1 driver.

fernando alonso GO BACK TO SLEEP YOU BABOONS!!

lando norris sorry father

fernando alonso AND DON'T CALL ME THAT!

teaganhorner monthly dump

view all comments

username ma'am who's that man?

↳ username forget the man, look at the way they're celebrating checo!

username that one picture of max smiling at charles is hilarious, man was plotting world war 3.

maxverstappen1 did you have to include that picture? it’s from like 2020? where did you even find it?

↳ teaganhorner of course i did, people must see how in love you are with charles. i found it in the depths of my camera roll.

↳ landonorris #lestappeninlove #bewhoyouare

username gonna miss seeing checo in teagan's photo dumps

↳ teaganhorner i'm gonna miss checo in my dumps too!

landonorris but has the boyfriend met the dad yet?

↳ teaganhorner he has you know this lando

username teagan baby, what about us? what about everything everything we’ve been through?

username it’s okay guys, i’m their third, they just don’t know it yet.

username HE CARRIES HER SHOES FOR HER!!

gerogerussell63 since when do you have a boyfriend?

lewishamilton you have a boyfriend? why am i just finding out now?

oscarpiastri please tell alex to stop screaming ‘war is over’ it’s been happening periodically for the past 4 hours.

↳ username why the heck is alex screaming ‘war is over?’

↳ alex_albon THE SHACKLES HAVE BEEN BROKEN!

↳ landonorris alex, mate, we still don’t know what that means

danielricciardo wow, never thought i’d live to see teagan horner soft launch her bf

↳ teaganhorner oh shut up, you’ve known from the start

↳ pierregasly it’s been a year and you’re just now soft launching? my man deserves better

↳ georgerussell63 PIERRE KNEW? WHAT ABOUT ME? HOW DID HE KNOW BEFORE ME?! BEFORE LEWIS?!

↳ teaganhorner 😊😊

↳ alex_albon I’VE ALSO KNOWN!!!

↳ oscarpiastri lando spilled the beans one time so now i know.

username so only a few people know who mystery man is.

↳ username from what we’ve gathered, max, lando, oscar, daniel, alex, and pierre know.

↳ username there’s a common thread here and it’s red bull. except the mclaren boys.

¡leclerc-s speaks! it’s so easy to write for this story because i have so many ideas for it. i don’t think i established that every part is going to be a race or two each one. meaning, winter break incoming before we head to preseason testing and the bahrain gp. fret not people, checo is not 100% gone, he’s still going to be mentioned from time to time.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!