#mafia boss charles leclerc

[mariclerc]

Falling for you | cl16

Summary: thanks to a debt owed by your father you have to marry the boss of the mafia.

Warnings: angst, fake marriage, mafia au, mentions of blood and gunshots, 5 years age gap, mafia boss!Charles with a soft spot for reader and a little bit of fluff.

Part 2

You knew that your father was not a good person, and he is someone who is quite bad and incompetent towards you, for him you are just a pawn in the middle of his game and not his daughter. There is never a lack of mistreatment and shocking looks with him, but the worst of all is that due to a debt owed by one of his businesses, so he decided to make a forced marriage between his 22-year-old daughter and the head of the Monegasque mafia in order to "solve his debts."

So here you find yourself, tied to a fake marriage with le diable de monte carlo (the devil of monte carlo) and he is not someone very nice, let's say, he is not someone you like and you can assure that he doesn't like you either.

Now you are in an opulent living room bathed in the soft glow of a fireplace, Charles sits by the fire, a glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand, he looks a little troubled... Across the room, you clutch a throw pillow on the plush couch with downcast eyes, an awkward silence stretches between you two.

He sighs. “We should probably talk.”

You steal a glance at him, then quickly look away. “Talk? About what?” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

He sets down his glass. “This whole... situation, the marriage... your father.”

You tense up, your father's betrayal and your forced marriage are fresh wounds. “There's not much to say, is there? He owed you a debt with his business, and... Well, here we are.”

“It doesn't have to be like this. I know this isn't what you wanted.” he says looking at you.

You let out a sigh. “Of course it's not! My whole life has been a series of things I never wanted, thanks to him! And now I'm stuck in a gilded cage with a... a...” you say with a slightly rising voice.

You struggle to find the right words.

Charles rises an eyebrow. “A what?”

You feel your frustration bubbling up. “A… a fucking pretentious and arrogant idiot who thinks the world revolves around him and his fucking business!” you finally say.

The words tumble out, surprising even you, Charles stares at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“So that's how you see me, huh?” he says chuckling. “It's pretty accurate I might say.” his voice is low and dangerous.

You take a shaky breath. “I… I don't know what I see! This whole thing is crazy. We barely know each other, and now we're married? It's all a damn fucking mess!” you say as tears form in your eyes.

You break down in tears, burying your face in the pillow. Charles hesitate for a bit, then rises and walks towards you, he sits beside you, a hint of gentleness in his movements.

“Hey... Look at me y/n.” he says softly, you sniffle and hesitantly lift your head, Charles meets your gaze, his expression is unreadable. “I know this is a huge mess... But maybe, there's a way to make it work... For both of us.” he swipe his thumb to clean your tears and he extends a hand hesitantly, you stare at it for a long moment, then slowly reach out and take it.

“Why are you being so gentle towards me all of a sudden?” you ask him shyly.

He shrugged. “Why not?” he whispered with a low voice. “Look, I may be a son of a bitch out there, but I can try to treat you nice inside of this big ass mansion.” he sighed. “I know we don't like each other and this sucks, but I don't think you deserve any more shit than you've already gotten.” he says softly.

You look at him perplexed, not knowing what to say to him, it is well known that he is arrogant and perhaps the most feared man in all of Monaco, but now he is giving you hints of a somewhat sweet side of him. Which is quite unexpected for you.

***

After that night a couple of weeks have passed, and the truth it's that he kept his word, outside he may be a son of a bitch, but inside the mansion he does everything possible to treat you well, as you deserve, but apart from that, it is the same monotonous routine and one or another event that you have to attend with him because of course, in front of the people you are his "wife", but you don't feel that way, you are simply with Charles to benefit your father and that's it.

The mansion is dark, the only light spilling from the city skyline outside the window, you're curled up on the bed, a book in your lap, but the words blur before your eyes and unease prickles your skin. Charles is at a late-night business meeting, and worry gnaws at you, he normally arrives late at night, but he must have already arrived home, usually if he arrives and you are asleep he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, it is his way of telling you that he has arrived.

Suddenly, a crash shatters the silence and you hear the front door splinting open, a panicked gasp escape your lips. You scramble off the bed, heart hammering in your chest, footsteps pound into the apartment and your phone fumbles in your hand as you dial Charles' number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Then, the gunshots erupt and you scream, the sound raw with terror, scrambling for cover, you fling yourself towards the walk-in closet, slamming the door shut just as rough voices fill the room. You huddle in the darkness, phone clutched in one hand, the other pressed against your mouth to stifle your sobs. Every creak of the floorboards, every muttered word sounds amplified.

Minutes tick by like hours and, finally, more gunshots, followed by a tense silence. Your legs are like jelly, your breath ragged, then, the creak of the closet door turning slowly makes your heart lurch, you squeeze your eyes shut, tears stinging your cheeks hoping for the worst.

A hand, rough but surprisingly gentle, reaches out and covers your mouth. A warm body presses against yours, a familiar scent of leather and cologne filling your senses.

“It's okay, it's me baby, shhh...” You hear Charles low and urgent voice.

You open your eyes a crack, relief washing over you as you see Charles' face. He looks grim, his eyes narrowed, but there's a flicker of worry in them as they meet yours, his hands are stained a shocking red, making you gasp.

He scoops you up cradled in his arms, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “Don't worry tesoro, it's alright. You're safe now.” he says soothingly. (darling)

He carries you swiftly through the darkened mansion, his movements sure despite the blood on his hands. You bury your face in his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart a stark contrast to the chilling scene you narrowly escaped. He flips on the light of the hallway, revealing the extent of the carnage: there are bullet holes in the walls, furniture overturned, blood spatters staining the pristine white tiles. You cling to him, trembling and Charles rushes you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He gently sets you down and reaches for the first-aid kit, his movements are efficient as he cleanses a small cut on your arm that you hadn't even noticed in your panic.

“Charles… what happened? Who were those men?” you asked with hoarse voice.

“Just some... business associates who overstepped their boundaries, that's all.” he says avoiding your gaze.

You frown, knowing he's not telling you everything, you reach out and touch the blood on his hand, your voice barely a whisper.

”Charles, is it… is it my father? Did he… he sent those guys?” you whisper terrified.

Charles meets your gaze, his face a mask of cold fury. “Let's just say, his people won't be bothering us anymore, I promise.” he says steely, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his hold both protective and fiercely possessive.

The silence after Charles' last words hangs heavy in the air, thick with unspoken emotions. You stare up at him, his hold on you a lifeline in the aftermath of the terrifying ordeal.

“Charles, I… I don't even know what to say.” you say with trembling voice.

He leans back a fraction, concern softening his features. “You don't have to say anything baby, not yet. Just… know that you're safe now. That's all that matters to me.” he says gently.

But the words tumble out before you can stop them, a flood of emotions breaking the dam.

“No, it's not all that matters. This whole thing… it's been terrifying, confusing. But… being here with you, even in the middle of this mess it felt different. Safe, somehow, and maybe… a little bit comforting.” you say as your eyes fill with tears again.

A flicker of surprise crosses Charles' face, quickly replaced by a warmth that takes your breath away. His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek, the feeling of his fingertip on your face feels like a soft caress.

“Comforting, huh? That's an interesting word choice for a situation involving gunshots and gangsters.” he says with a low and husky voice.

You manage a weak smile. “But it's the truth! And maybe… that's because… because deep down, despite everything, despite how we got here… I think I… I might be starting to feel something for you, Charles.” you say with a small and shy voice.

The air crackles with unspoken confessions Charles stares at you, his gaze searching yours. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, chasing away the shadows of violence.

He smiles at you, the dimples making him present on his face. “Well, that's a relief, because believe it or not, tesoro, I feel the same way as you do... you know, being stuck in a loveless marriage with a cute pretty girl wasn't exactly on my agenda either.” he chuckled. (darling)

You laugh, a shaky sound that breaks the tension. He leans in, his lips hovering close to yours.

“How about we forget the whole arranged marriage thing, and see where this… feeling… takes us?” he says with his voice above a whisper.

His eyes hold yours, a question and a promise all at once, your heart beats a frantic rhythm in your chest. There's a world of uncertainty ahead, but for the first time, you feel a flicker of hope.

“I think I'd like that.” you say while nodding and smiling again.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss was a little hesitant at first, then it deepens with a newfound tenderness. The taste of blood mingles with the salt of your tears, a stark reminder of the danger you narrowly escaped, but the kiss itself is a promise of something new, something hopeful. In the wreckage of your forced marriage, a seed of real love has begun to bloom between the two of you.

***

The following days after the break-in are a real-life nightmare for you, you constantly wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares and so on, but at the same time, there are moments of calm like the one you are experiencing now. You're curled up on the couch, a book in your lap, but your eyes keep drifting towards Charles, who's engrossed in paperwork at the coffee table.

Charles glances up, catching your gaze, he smiles, a genuine one that reaches his eyes, and sets down his pen. “Daydreaming again, I see, hm?” he asked you while smiling softly.

You blush, self-consciously tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Just… thinking about... How things have changed so much, so quickly.” you smile back at him.

He walks over and sits beside you, his arm brushing yours in a way that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Not all changes are bad, are they love?” he says lightly.

You shake your head. “Definitely not, especially not the ones that involve delicious takeout and avoiding gangsters all day.” you let out a soft giggle.

He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. “Speaking of avoiding things, how about a change of scenery? A getaway? Just the two of us, before things get too… normal.”

The way he says "normal" makes you laugh... The normal life with Charles Leclerc, mafia boss (or ex-mafia boss, you haven't quite figured that out yet) is anything but normal in your book.

“A getaway? Where did you have in mind?” you asked intrigued.

He leans in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How about Italy? We can go there and go unnoticed, plus it would be in a fairly quiet place where we wouldn't have to worry about anything or anyone, how does that sound chérie?” he says softly. (darling)

A mix of emotions washes over you – excitement and nervousness... But mostly, you feel a thrill of anticipation. Italy with Charles, on your own terms, feels like a new beginning.

“Italy, huh? Sounds… interesting.” you sighed. “When would we leave then?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow? Pack your bags, tesoro. We're leaving the chaos behind and heading for sunshine, good food, and maybe a little bit of… romance.” he smiled and you could swear his eyes were shining.

Your heart skips a beat... Italy with Charles, a chance to explore a new side of him, a side free from the pressures of his past life. Maybe, just maybe, this trip could be the start of something truly extraordinary.

“Consider it packed! Let's go and see what Italy has in store for us.” you say with a bright smile on your face.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his kiss a promise of adventure and a deeper connection waiting to be discovered, the weight of your past may linger, but as you break away from the kiss, you know with a newfound certainty that your future, unlike your forced marriage, is something you'll write together.

***

Rolling hills bathed in the golden light of the setting sun stretch out before you, lavender fields shimmer in the distance, and the air is fragrant with the scent of wildflowers and fresh herbs. You stand on a terrace overlooking this idyllic scene, a glass of chilled prosecco in your hand, Charles leans against the railing beside you, a contented smile playing on his lips.

“This is perfect. I can't remember the last time I felt this… peaceful.” you sigh contentedly.

He reaches out and takes a strand of hair that's escaped your messy braid, tucking it behind your ear.

“Me neither, maybe all we needed was a little sunshine and a whole lot of beautiful countryside to escape the chaos.” you turn to face him, your eyes meeting his.

The past few weeks in Italy have been a revelation. You've explored charming towns, tasted incredible food, and most importantly, discovered a side of Charles you never knew existed: a man who appreciates quiet evenings on the terrace, who laughs easily at your dumb jokes, and whose eyes hold a tenderness you haven't seen before.

You smile softly. “It's more than the sunshine, Charles, it's the feeling of starting over! Of leaving behind the expectations and the dangers... Here, we can just be us.”

He pulls you into a gentle embrace, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Just us, and that's all that matters... Though, maybe a little less danger in the future would be nice.”

You laugh, the sound echoing across the quiet landscape.

“No promises, Mr. Leclerc. But I wouldn't mind a little less excitement for a while.” you said teasingly.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “Speaking of Leclerc… this whole marriage situation. It's obviously not ideal... What do you... what do you want to do?” he speaks in a more serious tone.

You take a sip of your prosecco, considering your options... The truth is, being Charles' wife has opened your eyes to a world you never knew existed: It's thrilling, exhilarating, and sometimes terrifying. But one thing is certain - you don't want to lose him.

“How about we forget the whole arranged marriage thing? Let's start over, for real this time... Just Charles and y/n, seeing where this… feeling takes us.” you say softly while smiling confidently.

A slow smile spreads across Charles' face, brighter than the setting sun. He takes your hand, his touch sending a spark through you.

“Now that's an offer I can't refuse, so... Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Leclerc… Hold on tight, because the journey is exciting.” he said while grinning.

You laugh, the sound echoing through the Tuscan hills. In the distance, a church bell tolls, marking the end of the day. As you raise your glass towards the vibrant orange sky, you know that this new beginning, forged in the heart of Italy, holds the promise of a future brighter than any sunset.

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustling of leaves in the warm breeze.

Charles takes a long sip of his prosecco, then sets the glass down on the railing, he turns to you, his gaze intense.

“So, Ms. Y/n Leclerc. This new life… it doesn't start tomorrow... It starts right now, with you.” He says with a low, husky voice.

His words send a shiver down your spine, he steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His touch is warm, sending a delicious warmth through your body.

“There's something about this place, about you… it makes me want to be a better man, you know? The kind of man who deserves a woman sweet like you.” he continue speaking quietly, looking into your eyes.

You lean into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. “You already are a good man, Charles... A complex man, yes, but you're trying to be such a good one.” you say with your voice barely a whisper.

He dips his head, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. The last rays of the setting sun cast a golden glow on his beautiful face, highlighting the vulnerability in his eyes, a vulnerability that you have only been able to see on this trip.

“Then let me show you just how good I can be amore.” he said with his voice husky with desire.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss both passionate and tender. It's a kiss that speaks of new beginnings, of unspoken promises, and of a love that has blossomed amidst chaos and found its strength in a shared desire for peace.

As you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, you know that this kiss isn't just a moment in time, it's a declaration, a commitment to write your own story, together, under the warm Italian sky.

The stars begin to twinkle overhead, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of jasmine, Charles pulls you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively and you lean your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm. You know that this is the true beginning of something quite special between the two of you, something that you long for and so does he.

***

After a couple of days, you and Charles stroll hand-in-hand through the villa's sprawling gardens, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers filling the air.

“I can't believe we actually own a place like this! It's so amazing and beautiful!” you say while smiling.

Charles squeezes your hand as you spot a vine laden with ripe figs and reach up to pluck one, Charles watches you with a fond smile.

“Careful there piccola mia, don't get too carried away.” he says teasingly. (little one)

You toss the fig into your mouth while closing your eyes, savoring the sweet, juicy flavor. “I can't help it Cha! Everything here is so delicious and sweet.” you say giggling.

Charles steps closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I'm glad you like it... But I think there's something even sweeter here.” he says leaning in.

He dips his head and kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer towards you.

“I'll take that as a compliment!” you smile.

He pulls away, his eyes still filled with warmth.

“A compliment? More like a promise chérie, a promise of many, many more delicious things to come... And I have a few ideas on my mind.” he says while smirking. (darling)

You playfully swat at his arm, but he just laughs, catching your hand and holding it tightly, together, you wander through the gardens, picking figs, grapes, strawberries, and juicy tomatoes. Charles playfully gives you nicknames based on the fruits and vegetables you pick.

“You're my little figgy, picking all the sweetest fruits.” he says while tickling.

You giggle, trying to swat away his tickling fingers. “Stop it Charlie! I'm not a figgy, I'm a tomato girl!”

Charles pretends to pout.

“A tomato girl? How disappointing, I was hoping for a little fig girl, someone sweet and juicy.” he says in a dramatic way.

You roll your eyes, but you can't help but smile. “Oh, please. You'd be lucky to have a tomato girl like me!” you chuckled.

Charles leans in and kisses your cheek. “Lucky? Oh, baby, i'm the luckiest man in the world because I have you by my side.”

You blush, your heart fluttering in your chest. As you continue to wander through the gardens, picking fruits and vegetables, you feel a sense of peace and contentment washing over you... This is more than just a gateway, it's a chance to start fresh, to build a new life together as a married couple, away from all the chaos and danger of your past. And with Charles by your side, you know that anything is possible.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🚕Accidentally Kidnapping a Mafia Boss

*part of the reverse tropes series*

Pairing: MafiaBoss!Max Verstappen x UberDriver!Reader Genre: Crack/Humor/Fluff? Summary: Uber seemed like a brilliant plan to get money to buy a new car. However, a mistake has you picking up the wrong passenger. Pretty blue eyes turn dangerous when you notice the gun in his belt.

*this was actually so much fun to write! this is in no way dark whatsoever. it's super funny and the reader is pretty ditzy but it's all in good fun! hope you like it!*

TAG LIST CLOSED

You hummed to whatever tune was playing on your half-broken radio. Most of the lyrics came out as muffled voices, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because like the radio, your car was almost dead. 

Key word being almost. 

You had bought the car at the beginning of your high school career and refused to give it up. But, your father had finally convinced you to buy a new one. However, buying a new car was expensive, hence why you were driving around town at 7 p.m. on a Friday night trying to find someone who needed an Uber. 

Your family had mentioned how dangerous it was to drive for the “taxi” company, but no one else was hiring at this time. 

“It’s an easy way to make bank,” you had told your very confused parents. 

Your hand came up and smacked the top of the dash, causing the radio to spam for a moment before finally, clear voices played out. However, your eyebrows furrowed once you could actually listen to the song. 

“This is not my playlist,” you muttered while trying to get your Bluetooth to come back on. Once your fingers reached the dials, your phone lit up with an Uber notification. 

“Finally.”

You quickly put in the address and drove down the street. Your humming resumed, playlist reaching out through the speaker. You hadn’t even glanced at where the location was, or you would have realized that you were going in the wrong direction. 

When you were supposed to be going further into the town, you were headed for the city. The only place your parents refused to let you drive. 

It might have to do with the local mafia war that was going on. Something about track limits or whatnot. However, that was not going to stop you from getting paid that night. 

You finally came to a stop at the corner of what you thought to be Fifth and Main, like your phone said to stop at. The actual corner was Fourth and Main, but you couldn’t tell because half of the word “fourth” was smudged with some type of brown substance. 

Your shoulders raised in a shrug while your gaze landed back on your phone. At least you were supposed to be picking up a nice older looking lady. That’s what your Uber app said anyway. You leaned forward in the driver’s seat, making the entire car squeak. Before you knew it, your fingers had started to tap along to the song that was still playing. 

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut caught your attention. 

“Drive!” you heard from behind you. 

Your entire body turned in the seat as you looked to the back row of your car. 

That was not a nice looking old lady. 

The man that now resided on the back road had a mean glare as his eyebrows cocked. Sea blue eyes met your own as the man leaned forward and pointed out the window. 

“I said drive, let’s go!” the accented voice yelled.  

If you had taken a moment to actually look at the man, you would have noticed his roughed up suit, along with the bright red splatters along his white dress shirt. And on his belt line, a gun seemed to be tucked. 

But you hadn’t noticed. 

“Yes sir!” you cheerfully said, putting the car into drive. A loud boom sounded outside the car, but your radio had decided to turn up full blast, masking the sound. Your car squeaked as it started to move away from the corner and farther along the road. 

The man in the back seat seemed agitated, but slowly relaxed the farther away you got on the highway. He had leaned back against the window and rubbed his eyes. You wanted to keep glancing back at him, but you needed to drive. When you noticed that the Uber app had not updated with his next location, you gathered the courage to speak. However, he beat you to it. 

“Is this your first time?” 

You sheepishly grinned back at him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, is it that noticeable?” 

A grunt escaped his lips. 

“The damn Get Away Car sticker on the back is not very inconspicuous. You need to get rid of it.” 

“Oh! So you don’t like Taylor Swift that much?” 

The man glared at you through the rearview mirror, before he shut his eyes. His hand waved at you through the gap between the front seats. 

“Just don’t miss the exit.” 

“Sir, you’ll need to put in your location first.” 

His eyes shot open. “I guess this is your first day. How did you ever get through training?” 

You glanced back. “Training? It was all online?” 

A huff only answered as he reached for what you hoped was a phone in his pocket. 

“I’ll have to let Lando know that online training will not work.” 

You let out a nervous giggle, noting that there was no “Lando” in the Uber training video. But, once again, the money promised kept you going down the highway. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping that the guy would just put his address in. Now you were getting annoyed.

“Sir, I really need the address or I’ll have to make you get out.” 

A click near your ear made you freeze. 

“Who do you think you are? Giving orders to de Leeuw.” 

You had definitely picked up the wrong person. You wanted to start explaining yourself, but the gun near your head made the words die out in your throat. You could feel his breath on your ear as he spoke. This would be hot, if you weren’t scared to lose your life. 

“Now, you’re going to tell me who you are and why you don’t know where the right exit is. Are you working for Hamilton? Vettel? Alonso?” 

You were so caught up in not wanting to die that you missed the car in front of you slamming on your breaks. You were thankful for your fast reflexes as your foot pressed down on the left pedal, making your car lurch to a halt. A thump on the back of your seat had you reeling around to see what had happened to the blond man. 

You were surprised to see him now sprawled on the back seats, eyes closed and gun now on the floor. Your hands were shaking as you were now able to take a random exit. When you got to a random parking lot, your head hit the steering wheel. 

“I have de Leeuw in my back seat.” 

Your breathing started to grow ragged. 

“I have  de Leeuw in my back seat!” 

You were now panicking. 

“I HAVE AN FUCKING UNCONSCIOUS MAFIA BOSS IN MY BACK SEAT!” 

Charles’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Max’s tracker come to a stop in a parking lot. The Dutchman was supposed to come back right away after a swift deal with Gasly on the other side of town. But, Charles’s heart had dropped when the car, that Max was supposedly in, turned at an exit too soon. He took off his headset and rolled his chair over a bit. 

“Lando, who was picking Max up today after the deal? Was it Carlos?” 

The curly-haired Briton spun in his seat to look at his fellow mafia worker. 

“Uh, Carlos called in sick. I thought it was Oscar’s turn?” 

Something felt weird in Charles’s stomach. 

“No, Oscar is on that mission? Daniel was then after Oscar.” 

Lando’s eyes widened with fear. “Daniel is out of the country.” 

The Monegasque turned back to his computer screen. All vitals for Max were still good, but he had yet to leave the location. His finger pointed and pressed against the screen. 

“Then . . . who has Max?” 

Back in the parking lot, you had gotten out of the car and were currently rocking back and forth in the fetal position. 

“This is not happening. Why did this happen to me? I only needed some money. Why did I get stuck with a mafia boss. I want to live. I need to get back home to my plant and cat.” 

Last time you checked, de Leeuw was still out cold. You had taken the gun just in case he woke up in a panic and started to shoot at stuff. That would not end well for you. You grabbed your phone and pushed a button. 

“Yes? Hi? Hello, I am calling about what to do if I picked up the wrong passenger. Uh-huh. Yes. I didn’t have his address. Well, no. He’s unconscious. I can’t call the police, he probably owns them. What? Ok. No? The hospital is under the law as well? Yep. I can’t just take him back! No, wait. Don’t hang up. Uhg.” 

So much for customer service. 

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket. Your feet took you over to your car, and you opened the back seat. The blond man was still looked like he was asleep. Your face got closer to his. 

Hm. Up close he was quite handsome. The freckle on his lip really added bonus points. You were so engrossed with the small dot that you missed the twitch of his eyes under his eyelids. When you looked back up, your eyes met blue, which made you shriek and fall back on your butt. 

Max was a bit out of it when he was trying to wake up. What he wasn’t expecting was a face to be so close to his when his eyes finally opened. He would laugh if he had the strength as he watched you fall onto the concrete. His hand immediately went to his belt, but his heart dropped when he didn’t feel his gun. 

“Looking for this?” you asked, gun outstretched at the man in your back seat. Max’s eyes widened at the gun pointed to his head. It took all of his strength to put his hands up. 

“You don’t want to do this,” is the first calm thing that the man said to you. You, however, kept the gun pointed directly at him. 

“You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t have you freak out on me and shoot my face. Who would take care of my cat back home? My cousin Lan could, but he kills everything.” 

Max registered the slight hitch in your voice. While his hands were still up, he took a moment to look around the parking lot. In the depths of his mind, he was hoping that Lando or at least Charles were on their way to come get him. Yet, his heart rate rose as he saw a few familiar things surrounding him. 

He turned back to you. “Ok, you need to listen to me. We are in Rosberg territory right now. And he’s not going to like us on his property. So, you need to give me the gun and get back into the car.” 

Your eyes flickered around, and caught some movement to the left and then to the right. You slowly inched the gun down as you walked closer. When you were right in front of the Dutchman, you quickly handed him the gun as you rounded the car to the drivers seat. 

Max quickly reloaded the unloaded gun with a smirk on his face. You couldn’t have shot him if you tried. It took a bit for him to do it, but when the magazine fit back in the gun, he was wondering why you hadn’t taken off yet. 

“We have to go, now,” he said sternly. 

You turned around. “But I need to find a good get-away-song.” 

Max could count the pout on your lips as adorable, if it weren’t for the fact that Rosberg’s men were quickly making their way to the car. 

“You’re going to have to pick a good funeral song if you don’t hit the gas pedal.” 

“Aha!” 

The music blared out of the broken speaker as you finally put the car into drive. You heard metal hit metal and prayed that you still could trade your car out for another (even with a few bullet holes). 

Max had pressed himself up against the back seat, gun cocked and ready. 

“You better not shoot out my back window. I have to trade this car for a new one.” 

Max muttered, “You won’t trade anything if you’re dead.” 

“I heard that!” 

The mafia boss ignored you as he kept watch. When a few cars started to gain, that’s when he leaned back and aimed the gun, firing shots through your back windshield, shattering the glass. 

“Do you listen to anyone? Or is my voice just static in your brain?” you asked as you swerved onto the highway. When Max didn’t answer, you huffed. You steadily drove your car down the big roads as Max tried his best to keep the cars at bay. 

“How far am I driving?” 

Max grunted as he ducked from a bullet. “Just until exit 7. That’s my track.” 

You wanted to hit your head on the steering wheel once again. “You’re telling me that if I just kept driving, I wouldn’t be in this situation?” 

When he didn’t answer, you swerved a bit to knock him off balance. Your chuckles hit Max’s ear, pissing him off even more. 

“And to think, I was going to replace this utter junk if you made it out alive.” 

“We’re not done yet mister.” 

There was still a bit of road to go, and you were hoping that Max would try to shoot out one of their tyres, instead of trying to shoot at their drivers. He was about reload when he heard a clicking sound. Max really wanted to through himself out the door. 

“Is your blinker seriously on right now?” 

Your fully turned around to glare. 

“Yes.” 

You jerked the wheel as you got onto exit 7, making the cars behind slowly back away and continue on the highway. You wiggled in your seat as you did a little celebration. When some familiar houses came into sight, you gasped. 

“My cousin lives around here!” 

Max was out of breath as he was flabbergasted by your upbeat spirit. “Cousin?” 

“Yeah! He has this like high tech job and stuff. I come over to swim in the summer.” 

He had no words as you pulled up to a familiar house. You scrambled out the door and fell face flat on the asphalt. 

“Sweet mother, thank you, thank you.” 

You could kiss the ground, but that would be super unsanitary. When the garage creaked, you quickly got up and scrambled behind Max, who raised his gun out of instinct. However, he wanted to laugh when he saw his two best friends in full oversized gear. 

The two friends froze at the sight of their boss and, well, Lando’s cousin. 

“Y/n?” the Briton questioned, pulling the visor on the oversized helmet up. 

Your sprung in your place. 

“Lando!” 

“Max?” 

“Charles?”

Lando squinted at you. 

“Y/n?” 

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. 

“Lando?” 

The curly-haired man rushed at you, making you dodge around Max. Which, that resulted in Lando chasing you around the yard. 

“You kidnapped my friend?” 

“Why are you friends with de Leeuw and apparently Il Predestinato? I’m telling Aunt Cisca!”

“Not if I tell your mum that you Ubered in the city!” 

Max and Charles watched as the two of you ran after each other, hurling insults and threats. The two jumped when they heard a loud creak behind them and then a crash. When they looked, your car was down to the ground, wheels askew. 

“My car! De Leeuw, you’re paying for that!”  

uber_y/n has posted

uber_y/n new baby from my new baby 🖤

liked by bestie, land0, max_v, and 204 others

bestie um excuse me ma'am 🤨 what happened to bessie? 😭

uber_y/n someone (not saying any names [max] ) SHATTERED HER BACK WINDOW

max_v I hope you like bessie 2.0 schatje

uber_y/n I dooooooo(not)

max_v woman 🙄

land0 you just had to go for my cousin 😐😑😐

uber_y/n he was very charismatic, unlike you noRIZZ 🫵💀

sharl_lec pls, for the love of everything good in this world, quit uber

uber_y/n NOPE on my way to pick up someone named...lewis?

max_v oh no

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[chucleclerc]

THE PRINCE OF MONACO 🇲🇨

[pucksandpower]

Stitched Together

mafia boss!Charles Leclerc x surgeon!Reader

Summary: helping a man in dire need of medical attention leads you down a road you never could have imagined

Warnings: this is a mafia romance so … yeah (gunshot wounds, drugging, kidnapping, and Mattia Binotto)

The quiet streets of Monaco glisten under the soft glow of streetlights as you make your way home from a work dinner. The night air carries a slight chill, and you pull your jacket tighter around yourself, your heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement.

Suddenly, a pained groan echoes from a nearby alley, stopping you in your tracks. Your instincts as a surgeon kick in, and you cautiously approach the shadowed passage.

“Hello?” You call out, peering into the darkness. “Is someone there?”

Another groan answers you, and as your eyes adjust, you spot a figure slumped against the wall. Rushing forward, you kneel beside the man, immediately noticing the dark stain spreading across his midsection.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, your training kicking in. “Sir, can you hear me? I’m a doctor. I’m going to call an ambulance.”

As you reach for your phone, a hand weakly grasps your wrist. “No ... no hospitals,” the man rasps, his voice strained.

You frown, conflicted. “Sir, you’re seriously injured. You need medical attention.”

“Can’t ... risk it,” he manages, his breathing labored.

Biting your lip, you consider your options. “Okay, what’s your name?”

“Charles,” he replies, grimacing as he shifts slightly.

“Alright, Charles,” you say, your voice calm and steady. “If you won’t go to a hospital, will you at least let me take you back to my apartment? I’m a surgeon and I can patch you up there.”

Charles hesitates, his piercing green eyes searching your face. After a moment, he nods. “Okay.”

With some effort, you manage to help Charles to his feet, supporting his weight as you slowly make your way out of the alley. “My place isn’t far,” you assure him. “Just hang on.”

The short walk feels like an eternity, but finally, you reach your apartment building. As you fumble with your keys, Charles leans heavily against the wall.

“Almost there,” you encourage, guiding him inside and into the elevator.

Once in your apartment, you lead Charles to your couch. “Lie down,” you instruct, already moving to gather supplies. “I need to assess the damage.”

Returning with your medical kit, you carefully cut away Charles’ blood-soaked shirt. The bullet wound is clearly visible, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it’s not as severe as you initially feared.

“Good news,” you tell him, meeting his gaze. “The bullet seems to have missed any vital organs. I can clean and stitch this up, but you’ve lost a lot of blood. Are you sure I can’t convince you to go to a hospital?”

Charles shakes his head firmly. “No hospitals. Please.”

You nod, respecting his decision despite your reservations. “Alright. This is going to hurt, but I’ll do my best to be quick.”

As you work, Charles grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “So,” he says, clearly trying to distract himself, “what’s a surgeon doing patching up strange men in her living room?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Honestly? I have no idea. I guess I just couldn’t leave you bleeding in that alley.”

“Most people would have just called the police,” Charles points out, hissing as you clean the wound.

“Well, I’m not most people,” you reply with a small smile. “And you seemed pretty adamant about avoiding official channels.”

Charles studies you for a moment. “You’re not going to ask why?”

You shrug, focusing on your work. “It’s not my place to pry. Though I have to admit, I am curious about what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”

A wry smile tugs at Charles’ lips. “Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Fair enough,” you concede. “Hold still, I’m about to start stitching.”

As you work, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face.

“You’re good at this,” he comments after a while.

You smile, not looking up from your task. “I should hope so. I didn’t go through years of medical school for nothing.”

“How long have you been in Monaco?” Charles asks, seemingly genuinely interested.

“About three years now,” you reply. “I came here for a fellowship at the hospital and ended up staying.”

Charles nods. “Do you like it here?”

You consider the question as you finish the last stitch. “I do. It’s beautiful, and the work is challenging. But ...”

“But?” Charles prompts when you trail off.

Sighing, you begin applying a bandage. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels a bit ... lonely, I guess. It’s not always easy to connect with people here.”

Charles’ expression softens. “I can understand that. Monaco can be a difficult place to truly belong.”

You meet his gaze, surprised by the understanding in his eyes. “Exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I’ve made some friends, but sometimes I miss the sense of community I had back home.”

“Where is home for you?” Charles asks.

“Originally? A small town that feels like a lifetime away from here,” you answer. “Nothing like Monaco, that’s for sure.”

Charles chuckles, then winces slightly. “I can imagine. It must have been quite the culture shock.”

You nod, smiling. “You have no idea. But enough about me. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you,” Charles replies, attempting to sit up.

You gently push him back down. “Not so fast. You need to rest and let that wound start healing.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning on keeping me hostage, doctor?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. But I’d feel better if you stayed put for at least a little while. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Water would be great, thank you,” Charles says, settling back against the couch cushions.

As you move to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, you can’t help but glance back at your unexpected guest. There’s something intriguing about Charles, beyond his mysterious injury and resistance to seek official help.

Returning with the water, you hand it to Charles, who takes it gratefully. “Thank you,” he says, his fingers brushing against yours as he accepts the glass.

You sit in the armchair across from him, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “So, Charles,” you begin, “what do you do when you’re not getting shot in dark alleys?”

Charles nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly before letting out a surprised laugh. “You certainly don’t pull any punches, do you?”

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Well, you did say it was better if I didn’t know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious.”

Charles regards you with amusement. “Fair enough. Let’s just say I’m in ... business management.”

“Business management,” you repeat skeptically. “That must be some high-stakes business.”

“You have no idea,” Charles murmurs, his expression turning serious for a moment before he shakes it off. “But really, I’d much rather hear more about you. It’s not every day I meet a beautiful surgeon with a penchant for rescuing mysterious strangers.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment. “There’s not much more to tell, really. I work, I occasionally have dinners with colleagues, and apparently, I moonlight as a back-alley doctor.”

Charles laughs, then winces, pressing a hand to his side. “Careful,” you warn, “You’ll pull your stitches.”

“Worth it,” Charles says with a grin. “You’re quite something, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling. “You’re not so bad yourself, for a guy who got shot and refused proper medical care.”

“What can I say? I like to live dangerously,” Charles quips.

You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Clearly. Though maybe you should consider a slightly less dangerous lifestyle. I can’t imagine getting shot is good for your long-term health.”

Charles’ expression turns thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’ve been due for a change.”

An unexpected wave of concern washes over you. “Charles, are you in some kind of trouble? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He looks at you, surprise and something else you can’t quite place flickering in his eyes. “You’ve already done more than enough. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” you say dryly, gesturing to his bandaged midsection.

Charles chuckles. “Point taken. But really, you’ve been incredibly kind. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just promise me you’ll be more careful,” you say, surprised by the intensity of your own words.

Charles holds your gaze, his expression serious. “I promise.”

A moment of charged silence passes between you, broken only when Charles slowly pushes himself to his feet. “I should go,” he says, though he sounds reJoristant. “I’ve imposed on you enough.”

You stand as well, moving to steady him. “Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay and rest.”

Charles shakes his head. “Thank you, but I really should be going. I have some ... matters to attend to.”

You bite your lip, concerned. “Alright. But please, take it easy. And if you need anything — if that wound gives you any trouble — don’t hesitate to come back or call me.” You scribble your number on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

Charles takes the paper, his fingers lingering against yours. “Thank you,” he says softly. “For everything.”

As you walk him to the door, you find yourself wishing he would stay. There’s something about Charles that intrigues you, draws you in despite the obvious danger surrounding him.

At the threshold, Charles turns to you one last time. “I meant what I said earlier. You really are something special. I hope our paths cross again under ... better circumstances.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. Then, with a final smile, he’s gone, leaving you standing in your doorway, your heart racing and your mind reeling.

As Charles exits the building, he immediately pulls out his phone, his expression hardening into one of intense focus. He dials a number, speaking in a low, authoritative tone the moment the call connects.

“It’s me. I need eyes on someone, 24/7. A surgeon named Y/N Y/L/N. She’s under my protection now. No one touches her, understood?”

He ends the call, casting one last glance at your apartment building before disappearing into the night, already planning when and how he’ll see you again.

***

The glittering lights of the Hotel de Paris’ ballroom cast a warm glow over the assembled guests. You smooth down your elegant evening gown, feeling slightly out of place among Monaco’s elite. The hospital’s annual benefit gala is always a grand affair, but tonight feels different, charged with an energy you can’t quite place.

“Y/N!” A is familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Dr. Sophia Moreau, one of your closest colleagues, approaching with two champagne flutes in hand. “You clean up nicely,” she teases, offering you a glass.

You accept it gratefully, taking a small sip. “Thanks, Sophia. You look amazing too. How’s the night been so far?”

Sophia shrugs, her eyes scanning the room. “Oh, you know, the usual schmoozing and small talk. But there’s a buzz going around. Apparently, the director has some big announcement planned.”

Your interest piques. “Really? Any idea what it’s about?”

“No clue,” Sophia replies. “But whatever it is, it’s got the board members practically giddy. And you know how rare that is.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. The hospital’s board is notoriously hard to please, a fact you know all too well from your years of lobbying for transplant certification.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Dr. Henri Beaumont, the hospital’s director, takes the stage. The room falls into a respectful hush as he taps the microphone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Beaumont begins, his voice carrying across the ballroom. “Thank you all for joining us tonight in support of our wonderful hospital. Your generosity never ceases to amaze me.”

You listen politely, expecting the usual platitudes. But as Dr. Beaumont continues, you feel your heart begin to race.

“Tonight, I have the great pleasure of announcing a new chapter in our hospital’s history,” he says, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Thanks to an incredibly generous donation from one of Monaco’s own, we will be embarking on a project that will revolutionize healthcare in our principality.”

You grip your champagne flute tighter, hardly daring to hope.

“Within the year, our hospital will become fully transplant certified,” Dr. Beaumont announces, his words met with a wave of gasps and excited murmurs. “And that’s not all. This donation will also fund a dedicated medical helicopter, allowing us to transport organs and critical patients with unprecedented speed.”

The room erupts in applause, but you barely hear it over the pounding of your own heart. After years of fighting, of presenting proposal after proposal, it’s finally happening.

“None of this would be possible without the extraordinary generosity of our donor,” Dr. Beaumont continues once the applause dies down. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in thanking Mr. Charles Leclerc!”

As the room once again breaks into enthusiastic applause, a figure rises from one of the front tables. Your breath catches in your throat as you recognize the man turning to face the crowd.

It’s him. The mysterious Charles from the alley, the man whose life you saved. He looks completely different now — impeccably dressed in a tailored tuxedo, his presence commanding the room’s attention. But those piercing green eyes are unmistakable.

“Y/N?” Sophia’s voice breaks through your shock. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You blink, tearing your gaze away from Charles to look at your friend. “I ... yes, I’m fine. Just surprised, that’s all.”

Sophia raises an eyebrow. “I’ll say. This is everything you’ve been working towards. You must be thrilled!”

“I am,” you assure her, your mind still reeling. “It’s just ... a lot to take in.”

As the applause dies down and the crowd begins to disperse, you find your eyes drawn back to Charles. He’s engaged in conversation with Dr. Beaumont and several board members, but as if sensing your gaze, he looks up. Your eyes meet across the room, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Excuse me,” you murmur to Sophia, setting down your champagne flute. “There’s someone I need to speak with.”

You make your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with each step. As you approach, Charles politely excuses himself from his conversation and turns to face you.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets you, his voice warm. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Mr. Leclerc,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Charles’ smile widens. “I’m full of surprises. Though I believe you already knew that.”

You glance around, noticing the curious looks from nearby guests. “Could we speak privately?”

“Of course,” Charles says, gesturing towards a secluded balcony. “Shall we?”

You follow him out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome respite from the crowded ballroom. For a moment, you both stand in silence, looking out over the twinkling lights of Monaco.

“So,” you finally say, turning to face him. “Charles Leclerc. I’m guessing that’s not the name you usually give to people who find you bleeding in alleys.”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. But it is my real name.”

“And you’re ... what? A millionaire philanthropist?”

“Among other things,” Charles replies enigmatically.

You cross your arms, studying him. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were that night?”

Charles leans against the balcony railing, his expression turning serious. “Would you have believed me if I had? A man refusing hospital treatment, claiming to be a wealthy businessman?”

You have to admit he has a point. “I suppose not. But this ...” you gesture back towards the ballroom, “This is incredible. The transplant certification, the helicopter ... it’s everything I’ve been fighting for.”

“I know,” Charles says softly.

You blink, surprised. “You know?”

Charles nods. “After that night, I ... may have done some research. I was curious about the remarkable surgeon who saved my life without asking questions or for anything in return.”

“So this donation,” you say slowly, “it’s because of me?”

“In part,” Charles admits. “Your passion for your work, your dedication to improving healthcare here — it’s inspiring. But more than that, I saw an opportunity to do some real good. To maybe balance the scales a bit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Balance the scales? What exactly is it that you do, Charles?”

He gives you a rueful smile. “Let’s just say my business dealings aren’t always as philanthropic as tonight’s donation might suggest.”

A chill runs down your spine as the pieces start to fall into place. The gunshot wound, the refusal of hospitals, the mysterious “business management” — it all points to one conclusion.

“You’re not just a businessman, are you?” You ask quietly.

Charles holds your gaze, his expression unreadable. “No, I’m not. Are you sure you want to know more?”

You take a deep breath, considering. Part of you wants to walk away, to pretend this conversation never happened. But a larger part — the part that couldn’t leave a bleeding man in an alley, the part that’s drawn to the mystery and danger Charles represents — wants to stay.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “I want to know.”

Charles nods, respect flickering in his eyes. “Very well. But not here. This isn’t a conversation for a crowded gala.”

“Then where?” You ask.

“Have dinner with me,” Charles suggests. “Tomorrow night. I’ll answer all your questions, I promise.”

You hesitate, weighing the risks. But the memory of that night in your apartment, the connection you felt with Charles despite the strange circumstances, makes your decision for you.

“Alright,” you agree. “Dinner tomorrow.”

Charles smiles, relief evident in his features. “Thank you. I’ll send a car for you at eight.”

Just then, the balcony doors open, and Dr. Beaumont steps out. “Ah, there you are, Mr. Leclerc! And Dr. Y/L/N, how wonderful. I was hoping to speak with both of you.”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to hide your frustration at the interruption. “Dr. Beaumont, good evening.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” Dr. Beaumont says, looking between you and Charles.

“Not at all,” Charles replies smoothly. “Dr. Y/L/N was just expressing her excitement about the transplant certification project.”

Dr. Beaumont beams. “Yes, isn’t it marvelous? And it’s all thanks to your generous donation, Mr. Leclerc. We can’t thank you enough.”

“Please,” Charles says, “call me Charles. And the thanks should really go to Dr. Y/L/N here. Her proposals and persistence were what brought this need to my attention.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as Dr. Beaumont turns to you, his eyebrows raised. “Is that so? Well, Dr. Y/L/N, it seems we owe you a debt of gratitude as well. Your dedication to this cause has clearly paid off.”

“Thank you, Dr. Beaumont,” you manage, still reeling from Charles’ praise. “I’m just glad we’ll finally be able to offer these life-saving services to our patients.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Beaumont agrees. “In fact, I’d like to discuss the possibility of you heading up the new transplant department. Your expertise would be invaluable in getting the program off the ground.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “I ... I would be honored, sir. Thank you.”

“Excellent!” Dr. Beaumont claps his hands together. “We’ll set up a meeting next week to discuss the details. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to mingle with our other donors. Charles, Dr. Y/L/N, enjoy your evening.”

As Dr. Beaumont retreats back into the ballroom, you turn to Charles, still stunned. “Did you have something to do with that offer?”

Charles holds up his hands innocently. “I merely suggested to Dr. Beaumont that the project would benefit from your leadership. The decision was entirely his.”

You shake your head, a mixture of gratitude and confusion swirling inside you. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Then don’t say it,” Charles replies softly. “Just promise me you’ll use this opportunity to do what you do best — save lives.”

You nod, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the events of the evening. “I should probably get back inside,” you say reluctantly. “People will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

“Of course,” Charles agrees. “I look forward to our dinner tomorrow. There’s much we need to discuss.”

As you turn to leave, Charles gently catches your hand. “Y/N,” he says, his voice low. “Whatever you learn tomorrow, whatever you decide ... know that my feelings for you are genuine. That night in your apartment, it ... it changed things for me.”

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words. “It changed things for me too,” you admit softly.

Charles brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, then.”

As you make your way back into the ballroom, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions and questions. You spot Sophia across the room, waving you over with a curious expression.

“Spill,” she demands as soon as you reach her. “What was that all about? How do you know Charles Leclerc?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain the inexplicable situation you’ve found yourself in.

“It’s ... complicated,” you finally say. “And I think I’m about to find out just how complicated it is.”

***

As the sun sets over Monaco, casting a golden glow across the city, you find yourself standing in front of your apartment building, nervously smoothing down your dress. The sleek Rolls Royce that Charles promised pulls up, and a uniformed driver steps out to open the door for you.

“Good evening, Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets you politely. “Mr. Leclerc is expecting you.”

You slide into the plush leather seat, your heart racing with anticipation. The drive through Monaco’s winding streets is brief but gives you time to collect your thoughts. Before you know it, the car is pulling up to Le Louis XV, arguably the most exclusive restaurant in all of Monaco.

As you step out of the car, you spot Charles waiting for you at the entrance. He’s impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his presence commanding even among the elite clientele entering the restaurant.

“Y/N,” he greets you warmly, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Thank you, Charles. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckles, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

As you enter the restaurant, you’re immediately struck by the opulence of the decor. Crystal chandeliers hang from intricately painted ceilings, and the soft strains of a string quartet fill the air.

The maître d’ greets Charles by name, leading you to a secluded table tucked away in a corner. Charles pulls out your chair for you before taking his own seat across from you.

A waiter approaches, offering you menus. As he leans over to pour water into your glasses, you notice his gaze lingering a bit too long on your neckline. Before you can react, Charles clears his throat sharply.

“I think we’ll need a different server,” he says, his voice cold and authoritative. The waiter pales, stammering an apology before hurrying away.

You raise an eyebrow at Charles. “That was ... intense.”

Charles’ expression softens as he looks at you. “I apologize if that made you uncomfortable. I simply don’t tolerate disrespect, especially towards someone I care about.”

His words send a flutter through your chest, but you push it aside, reminding yourself why you’re here. “So,” you say, meeting his gaze, “you promised me answers.”

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “Indeed I did. But first, let’s order. This conversation may take a while.”

Once you’ve placed your orders and the new, much more professional waiter has poured your wine, Charles leans back in his chair, studying you intently.

“What do you know about the Monegasque underworld, Y/N?” He asks quietly.

You shake your head. “Not much, honestly. I know it exists, of course, but it’s not exactly something we discuss in the hospital break room.”

A small smile tugs at Charles’ lips. “No, I suppose not. Well, to put it bluntly, I am what you might call the boss of the Monegasque Mafia.”

Despite your suspicions, hearing him say it so plainly sends a shock through you. “The Mafia? Charles, that’s ...”

“Illegal? Dangerous? Morally questionable?” He finishes for you, his tone wry. “Yes, it’s all of those things.”

You take a sip of your wine, trying to process this information. “How did you end up in that position?”

Charles sighs, his eyes distant. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that I inherited the role from my father. He built this empire, and when he died, it fell to me to maintain it.”

“And the gunshot wound?” You ask, remembering the night you first met.

“A disagreement with a rival organization,” Charles explains. “It’s been dealt with.”

You feel a chill at the implication in his words. “Dealt with how?”

Charles meets your gaze steadily. “Do you really want to know?”

After a moment’s hesitation, you shake your head. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“Smart,” Charles says approvingly. “The less you know about certain aspects of my business, the safer you’ll be.”

The waiter returns with your appetizers, providing a brief respite from the heavy conversation. As you start to eat, you find your mind whirling with questions.

“Why are you telling me all this?” You finally ask. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to reveal your identity?”

Charles nods slowly. “It is. But I trust you, Y/N. That night in your apartment, when you helped me without question, without judgment — it showed me what kind of person you are. And I find myself ... unwilling to lie to you.”

His honesty touches you, despite the circumstances. “I appreciate that, Charles. But where does this leave us? What happens now?”

Charles leans forward, his eyes intense. “That depends on you. I won’t lie — being associated with me comes with risks. But it also comes with benefits, as you’ve seen with the hospital donation.”

“Is that what this is about?” You ask, a hint of disappointment creeping into your voice. “You’re trying to buy my loyalty?”

“No,” Charles says firmly. “The donation was genuine. Your passion inspired me to do some good. This ... this is something else entirely.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you. I’d like you to work for me, as my personal doctor when the need arises.”

You blink in surprise. “Your personal doctor? But I’m a surgeon, not a general practitioner.”

“Exactly,” Charles nods. “In my line of work, emergency surgical skills are more valuable than routine check-ups. You’d be on call for me and my ... associates when medical attention is needed discreetly.”

You sit back, considering his words. “That sounds an awful lot like being a mob doctor, Charles.”

He doesn’t deny it. “It is. But it would also give you the opportunity to save lives that might otherwise be lost. And I can promise you, the compensation would be ... substantial.”

The waiter returns to clear your plates and bring the main course, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts. As you cut into your perfectly cooked steak, you mull over Charles’ offer.

“What about my work at the hospital?” You ask. “I can’t just abandon that, especially not now that we’re getting the transplant certification.”

Charles shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to. This would be in addition to your regular work, called upon only when necessary. Your hospital duties would always come first.”

You take a sip of wine, studying Charles over the rim of your glass. “And what if I refuse? What happens then?”

“Then you walk out of here, go back to your life, and we never speak of this again,” Charles says simply. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I trust you. If you choose not to be involved, I know you’ll keep my secret.”

His sincerity is clear, and you find yourself believing him. “Can I ask you something, Charles?”

“Anything,” he replies.

“Why me? Surely there are other doctors you could approach, ones with more ... flexible ethics, perhaps?”

Charles’ expression softens. “Because you’re extraordinary, Y/N. Your skill, your compassion, your integrity — they’re rare qualities, especially in my world. And selfishly, perhaps, I want to keep you in my life.”

His words send a warmth spreading through your chest, and you find yourself at a crossroads. On one hand, everything you know tells you to walk away, to keep your life simple and safe. But on the other ...

“What would it entail, exactly?” You ask, surprising yourself.

A glimmer of hope appears in Charles’ eyes. “Primarily, it would involve treating injuries that can’t be taken to a hospital — gunshot wounds, knife punctures, that sort of thing. Occasionally, there might be a need for more ... specialized care.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Specialized how?”

“Let’s just say that sometimes, information needs to be obtained through methods that aren’t entirely ... ethical,” Charles says carefully.

You feel a chill run down your spine. “You mean torture.”

Charles doesn’t flinch from the word. “Yes. Your role would be to ensure that lines aren’t crossed, that no permanent damage is done. To save lives, even in the darkest of circumstances.”

You take a deep breath, trying to reconcile the charming man across from you with the brutal world he’s describing. “I don’t know if I can do that, Charles. It goes against everything I believe in as a doctor.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “I know. And I wouldn’t ask you to participate directly. Your job would be to mitigate harm, to heal. Nothing more.”

As the waiter clears your plates and offers dessert menus, you find yourself at a loss for words. Charles watches you carefully, giving you space to process.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says gently. “Take some time to think about it. Weigh the pros and cons. I know it’s not an easy decision.”

You nod, grateful for the reprieve. “Thank you. I ... I will think about it.”

As you share a decadent chocolate dessert, the conversation shifts to lighter topics. Charles tells you about his childhood in Monaco, and you share stories from your medical school days. Despite the heavy subject matter earlier, you find yourself laughing and enjoying Charles’ company.

All too soon, the evening draws to a close. Charles insists on walking you out, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you exit the restaurant.

As you wait for the valet to bring his car around, Charles turns to face you, his expression serious once more.

“Thank you for hearing me out tonight, Y/N,” he says softly. “Whatever you decide, know that I meant every word. You’re an extraordinary woman, and I’m honored to know you.”

Before you can respond, Charles leans in, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth in a kiss that’s both chaste and charged with potential. You feel your breath catch in your throat, your heart racing at his proximity.

As he pulls back, Charles meets your gaze, his green eyes intense. “Think about my offer. And when you’ve made your decision, good or bad, call me.”

With that, he steps back, leaving you feeling slightly dazed as the valet pulls up with his car. Charles opens the passenger door for you, ever the gentleman.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says softly. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

As the car pulls away from the curb, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts. You touch your fingers to the spot where Charles kissed you, still feeling the ghost of his lips.

Part of you knows you should run as far and fast as you can from Charles Leclerc and the dangerous world he inhabits. But a larger part – the part that yearns for excitement, for purpose beyond the hospital walls – is already considering his offer.

As Monaco’s glittering lights pass by outside the car window, you realize that no matter what you decide, your life will never be the same. The question is, are you ready to take the leap into the unknown?

With Charles’ business card burning a hole in your purse and the memory of his kiss lingering on your skin, you know that the decision you make will shape not just your future, but potentially the future of Monaco itself.

***

The shrill ring of your phone pierces the quiet of your bedroom, jolting you awake. Fumbling in the darkness, you grab your phone, squinting at the bright screen. Unknown number.

Your heart races as you answer, “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Charles’ voice comes through, tense and urgent. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

Sitting up, suddenly alert, you reply, “Charles? What’s wrong?”

There’s a brief pause before he continues, “I wish I could give you more time to consider my offer, but I’m afraid circumstances have forced my hand. One of my associates is badly injured and needs immediate medical attention.”

You can hear the strain in his voice as he continues, “If you’re willing to accept my offer, I’ll have someone pick you up right now. If not, I understand, and I’ll look for help elsewhere. But I need to know your decision now.”

Your mind races, weighing the implications. This is it — the moment of truth. Do you step into Charles’ world or walk away?

Taking a deep breath, you make your choice. “I’ll do it. Send the car.”

You can almost hear Charles’ relief through the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. A car will be there in five minutes. Be ready.”

The line goes dead, and you spring into action. Throwing on clothes and grabbing a bag with some basic medical supplies, you’re waiting outside your building when a sleek black car pulls up.

The drive is tense and silent. The driver, a stern-faced man, offers no conversation as he speeds through Monaco’s empty streets. Within minutes, you’re pulling up to an expansive, gated compound.

As soon as the car stops, the front door of the mansion flies open. Charles strides out, his face etched with worry.

“Y/N,” he greets you, guiding you quickly inside. “Thank you for coming. Follow me.”

You hurry after him through opulent hallways, your mind struggling to take in the surroundings. “What happened, Charles? Who’s hurt?”

“My right-hand man, Pierre,” Charles explains as he leads you down a staircase. “He was ambushed leaving a meeting. Took a bullet to the chest.”

You nod, your mind already racing through possibilities. “How long ago?”

“About an hour,” Charles replies, pushing open a door.

You step into what appears to be a fully-equipped operating room. On the table lies a man, his breathing labored and shirt soaked with blood.

Rushing to his side, you begin your examination. “Pierre? I’m Dr. Y/L/N. Can you hear me?”

Pierre’s eyes flutter open, filled with pain. “Y-yes,” he manages to wheeze.

You turn to Charles, who’s hovering nearby. “I need to examine him properly. Can you help me remove his shirt?”

As you and Charles carefully cut away Pierre’s bloodied shirt, you assess the wound. The bullet hole is below his right collarbone, and his breathing is increasingly strained.

“The bullet’s punctured his lung,” you announce, your mind already formulating a plan. “He needs surgery immediately. Charles, I’ll need assistance. Are you up for it?”

Charles nods without hesitation. “Tell me what to do.”

You quickly outline the procedure as you prep Pierre for surgery. “We need to reinflate his lung and remove the bullet. It’s going to be tricky, but we don’t have time to get him to a hospital.”

As you work, you fall into a focused rhythm, your years of training taking over. Charles proves to be a capable assistant, following your instructions precisely.

“Suction here,” you direct, carefully navigating the delicate lung tissue. “Good. Now hold this retractor steady.”

Hours pass in a blur of intense concentration. Finally, you step back, exhaling deeply. “I think we’ve done it. The lung’s reinflated and the bullet’s out. He’s not out of the woods yet, but his chances are good.”

Charles looks at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude. “Y/N, I ... thank you. You’ve saved his life.”

You nod, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion. “He’ll need close monitoring for the next 24 hours. Is there somewhere I can clean up?”

Charles leads you to an adjacent bathroom, where you wash the blood from your skin. As you emerge, you find Charles waiting, two glasses of whiskey in hand.

“I thought you might need this,” he says, offering you a glass.

You accept it gratefully, taking a long sip. The alcohol burns pleasantly, helping to calm your frayed nerves.

“So,” you say, meeting Charles’ gaze. “I guess this makes it official. I’m your doctor now.”

Charles nods solemnly. “Indeed. And I can’t express how grateful I am. Not just for tonight, but for taking this risk.”

You lean against the wall, suddenly feeling the weight of your decision. “I still have questions, Charles. About all of this. About what I’m getting myself into.”

“Of course,” Charles agrees. “Ask me anything. You deserve to know what you’re part of now.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin, “How often can I expect nights like this? And what exactly is the nature of your ... business?”

Charles considers his words carefully. “Nights like this are, thankfully, rare. Most of what I’ll need from you will be more routine — treating minor injuries, regular check-ups for my key people. As for my business ...” He pauses, taking a sip of his whiskey. “It’s complex. We have interests in various sectors — some legitimate, some less so. Gambling, real estate, import and export. And yes, sometimes that involves activities that aren’t entirely legal.”

You nod slowly, processing this information. “And the violence? The rivalries that led to Pierre getting shot?”

“An unfortunate reality of our world,” Charles admits. “We try to minimize it, but conflicts do arise. My goal is always to resolve things peacefully, but sometimes ...” He gestures towards the operating room, where Pierre lies recovering.

“I see,” you murmur. “And my role in all this? Beyond providing medical care, I mean.”

Charles’ expression softens. “Your role, Y/N, is to be a light in this sometimes dark world. To save lives, to minimize harm. And perhaps ... to remind people like me that there’s good in the world worth protecting.”

His words touch something deep inside you, and you find yourself nodding. “I think I can do that.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only when a monitor in the operating room beeps. You both rush to check on Pierre, finding his vitals stable.

As you adjust his IV, you ask, “So, what happens now? Do I just ... go home and wait for the next emergency call?”

Charles shakes his head. “Not quite. I’d like you to stay here for the next day or so, to monitor Pierre’s recovery. After that, we’ll set up a more formal arrangement. You’ll have a secure phone for communications and a driver on call for when you’re needed.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And my regular job at the hospital?”

“Remains your priority,” Charles assures you. “This work will always come second to that. I don’t want to jeopardize your career or the good you do there.”

Relieved, you nod. “Alright. And ... us? Where do we stand?”

Charles steps closer, his eyes intense. “That is entirely up to you. My feelings haven’t changed since our dinner. But I understand if this is too much, too complicated.”

You find yourself drawn to him, despite the rational part of your brain screaming caution. “It is complicated. But ... I can’t deny there’s something here. Something worth exploring.”

A smile spreads across Charles’ face, genuine and warm. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll take it slow, see where this leads us.”

Just then, Pierre stirs on the operating table, groaning softly. You both move to his side, your instincts taking over once again.

“Pierre?” You call softly. “Can you hear me?”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first but then settling on you. “Who ... where am I?”

Charles steps into his line of sight. “You’re safe, my friend. This is Dr. Y/L/N. She saved your life tonight.”

Pierre’s eyes widen in recognition. “The surgeon ... from the alley. You recruited her?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a long story. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” Pierre croaks, attempting a weak smile.

You check his vitals as you explain, “The bullet punctured your lung. We’ve repaired the damage, but you’re going to need time to recover. No strenuous activity for at least a month.”

Pierre nods, then looks to Charles. “The meeting ... did we get the information?”

Charles places a hand on Pierre’s shoulder. “We did, thanks to you. But don’t worry about that now. Focus on getting better.”

As Pierre drifts back to sleep, you turn to Charles. “He needs rest. And so do we, for that matter.”

Charles nods in agreement. “I’ll show you to a guest room. We should both try to get some sleep before morning.”

As you follow Charles through the mansion, the events of the night start to catch up with you. By the time you reach the luxurious guest suite, you’re practically swaying on your feet.

“Get some rest,” Charles says softly. “I’ll have some fresh clothes brought for you in the morning.”

As he turns to leave, you catch his hand. “Charles ... thank you. For trusting me with this.”

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “No, Y/N. Thank you for taking this leap of faith. Sleep well.”

As the door closes behind him, you sink onto the plush bed, your mind whirling with the night’s events. You’ve crossed a line tonight, stepped into a world you never imagined being part of. But as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement about what the future might hold.

For better or worse, your life will never be the same again.

***

As the weeks pass following that fateful night, you begin to notice subtle yet undeniable changes in your daily life. It starts with a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, a feeling of being watched that you can’t quite shake. At first, you dismiss it as paranoia, a natural reaction to your new connection with Charles’ world. But then you start to catch glimpses — a man in a dark suit lingering across the street from your apartment, a familiar face that seems to pop up wherever you go.

One morning, as you’re grabbing coffee before work, you decide to confront the situation. Turning abruptly, you lock eyes with a tall, broad-shouldered man who’s been tailing you for the past few blocks.

“Alright,” you say, crossing your arms. “Who are you and why are you following me?”

The man looks momentarily surprised before his face settles into a neutral expression. “Mr. Leclerc assigned me to ensure your safety, Dr. Y/L/N. I’m not meant to interfere with your daily life.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And does Charles think I need a bodyguard to get my morning coffee?”

The man — you decide to call him Shadow in your head — gives a small shrug. “Mr. Leclerc believes in being thorough. I’m here to protect you from any potential threats.”

Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine. But can you at least try to be a little less ... obvious? I don’t need my colleagues at the hospital getting suspicious.”

Shadow nods. “Of course. I’ll maintain a more discreet distance.”

As you continue your walk to the hospital, you can’t help but feel a mix of irritation and a strange sort of warmth at Charles’ protective instincts.

The surprises don’t stop there. Later that week, you return home from a long shift to find a large, elegantly wrapped package outside your door. Curious, you bring it inside and carefully open it.

Inside, you find a stunning designer handbag — one you vaguely remember admiring in a shop window weeks ago. Attached is a simple note:

A beautiful bag for a beautiful doctor – CL

You can’t help but smile, even as you shake your head at the extravagance. Pulling out your phone, you send a quick text to Charles.

The bag is gorgeous, but you really didn’t have to.

His reply comes moments later.

I wanted to.

Is it not to your liking?

You chuckle, typing back.

It’s perfect. But you don’t need to shower me with gifts.

Perhaps not. But I enjoy it. Allow me this small pleasure?

Rolling your eyes fondly, you respond.

Fine. But nothing too outrageous, okay?

You can almost hear his chuckle in his reply.

I make no promises.

True to his word, the gifts keep coming. A rare first edition of your favorite medical text. A pair of ridiculously comfortable designer shoes that somehow fit perfectly. Each accompanied by a note signed simply “CL”.

But it’s not just the material things that change. One day, as you’re buried in paperwork at the hospital, a delicious aroma wafts into your office. You look up to see your colleague standing in the doorway with a bag from your favorite local restaurant.

“Special delivery,” Sophia says with a grin, setting the bag on your desk.

You blink in surprise. “I didn’t order anything.”

Her grin widens. “No, but apparently you have a very thoughtful admirer. This has been showing up every day for the past week. The nurses have been taking turns bringing it up.”

Your cheeks flush as you open the bag, finding a perfectly prepared lunch and another note from Charles.

Sophia leans in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, who’s the mystery man? Anyone I know?”

You quickly tuck the note away. “It’s ... complicated. We’re still figuring things out.”

“Uh-huh,” Sophia says, clearly not buying it. “Well, whoever he is, he’s got good taste. In food and women.”

As Sophia leaves, you can’t help but smile. Despite the complexity of your situation with Charles, these small gestures warm your heart.

The changes extend beyond gifts and food, though. You start to notice that things at the hospital seem to be running more smoothly. Bureaucratic hurdles that used to take weeks to clear now resolve themselves in days. Equipment requests that were once denied due to budget constraints are suddenly approved.

One afternoon, you’re in a meeting with Dr. Beaumont, discussing the progress of the new transplant center.

“I must say, Dr. Y/L/N,” Beaumont says, beaming, “the speed at which we’re moving forward is remarkable. It’s as if all the red tape has simply ... vanished.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suspecting Charles’ influence but unable to confirm it. “Yes, it’s ... quite fortunate.”

Beaumont leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think our generous donor, Mr. Leclerc, might have something to do with it. He seems to have friends in high places.”

You force a neutral expression. “Oh? What makes you say that?”

Beaumont chuckles. “Let’s just say that certain government officials who were dragging their feet on approvals suddenly became very cooperative after a few calls from Mr. Leclerc’s office. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

As you leave the meeting, your mind is whirling. You appreciate the help, but the extent of Charles’ influence is starting to sink in. That evening, you decide it’s time for a face-to-face conversation.

You send Charles a text.

We need to talk. Dinner tonight?

His reply is almost immediate.

Of course. I’ll send a car. 8 PM?

At eight sharp, you find yourself being ushered into an exclusive rooftop restaurant. Charles is waiting, looking as handsome and composed as ever in a perfectly tailored suit.

He stands as you approach, pulling out your chair. “Y/N, you look lovely.”

You sit, fixing him with a serious look. “Charles, we need to discuss a few things.”

His expression turns concerned. “Is everything alright?”

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “The bodyguard, the gifts, the lunch deliveries ... it’s all very sweet, but it’s a bit much. And the thing with the hospital — are you pulling strings to make things happen?”

Charles listens intently, his face unreadable. When you finish, he leans back, considering his words carefully.

“I apologize if I’ve overstepped,” he says finally. “The protection is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. Your safety is paramount to me. But if the gifts make you uncomfortable, I can scale them back.”

You nod, relieved he’s listening. “And the hospital situation?”

Charles sighs. “I may have ... encouraged certain officials to be more cooperative. But I assure you, it was all above board. No bribes, no threats. Just a gentle reminder of how beneficial the new transplant center will be for Monaco.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Gentle reminder, huh? And I suppose your reputation had nothing to do with it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of Charles’ mouth. “I may have a certain ... influence. But I used it for a good cause. The transplant center will save lives, Y/N. Isn’t that what matters?”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Charles reaches across the table, taking your hand. “I know my world is very different from yours, Y/N. I’m trying to bridge that gap, to make things easier for you. But if I’m going about it the wrong way, tell me. I want you to be comfortable with this ... with us.”

The sincerity in his eyes touches you. “I appreciate that, Charles. I do. I just ... I need to feel like I’m still in control of my own life, you know? Like I’m not just being swept along in your wake.”

Charles nods, squeezing your hand gently. “I understand. From now on, I’ll consult you before making any decisions that affect your life. No more surprises. Well, fewer surprises, at least.”

You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate. “I suppose I can live with that. But maybe we can compromise on the bodyguard situation? I don’t need a shadow 24/7.”

“How about this,” Charles proposes, “The security detail maintains a distance unless you’re entering or leaving your apartment or the hospital. They’ll be there if you need them, but not constantly in your space. Would that work?”

You consider for a moment, then nod. “I can live with that. Thank you for listening.”

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Always, Y/N. Your happiness and comfort are important to me.”

As the waiter approaches to take your order, you find yourself relaxing, enjoying the evening with Charles. The conversation flows easily, touching on your work at the hospital, Charles’ legitimate business ventures, and your shared love of classical music.

By the time dessert arrives, you’re feeling more at ease with the situation than you have in weeks.

“Charles,” you say, savoring a spoonful of soufflé, “I have to ask. How did you know about the handbag? The one I admired weeks ago?”

A mischievous glint appears in Charles’ eyes. “I have my ways. Let’s just say I pay attention to the things that catch your eye.”

You shake your head, amused. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees with a smile. “But admit it, you’re starting to enjoy it.”

As you leave the restaurant, Charles’ hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you realize that he’s right. Despite the complexity, despite the lingering concerns about his world, you are enjoying this. Enjoying him.

Charles walks you to the waiting car, opening the door for you. Before you get in, he catches your hand, his expression turning serious.

“Y/N,” he says softly, “I want you to know that I treasure what’s growing between us. I know my world is complicated, often dangerous. But with you ... I see a possibility for something real, something good. I hope you can be patient with me as we navigate this.”

Touched by his honesty, you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m here, aren’t I? We’ll figure it out together.”

As the car pulls away, Charles watching from the curb, you lean back in your seat, a small smile playing on your lips. Your life has certainly become more complicated since that night in the alley. But as you reflect on the past few weeks — the challenges, the surprises, the growing connection with Charles — you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement about what the future might hold.

***

The cool evening air greets you as you exit the hospital, your shift finally over. You roll your shoulders, easing the tension from a long day of surgeries. As you walk towards your car, your mind drifts to Charles, wondering if he’ll be free for a late dinner.

Suddenly, a sharp prick in your neck startles you. Before you can react, a wave of dizziness washes over you. The world tilts, your vision blurring. You try to call out, but your voice fails you. As darkness encroaches, your last conscious thought is of Charles.

When you come to, it’s to a pounding headache and disorientation. You blink, trying to focus. The room is dimly lit, cold, with bare concrete walls. As awareness creeps back, you realize you’re strapped to a chair, your wrists and ankles bound tightly.

Panic rises in your throat, but you force it down, trying to assess the situation. You’re still in your scrubs, which means you haven’t been unconscious for too long. There are no windows, no indication of where you might be.

The creak of a door opening snaps your attention forward. A man enters — relatively tall, curly-haired, with a scar running down the left side of his face. His eyes, when they meet yours, are cold and calculating.

“Ah, Dr. Y/L/N,” he says, his voice carrying a slight Italian accent. “So good of you to join us. I hope you’re comfortable.”

You glare at him, finding your voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man chuckles, pulling up a chair to sit across from you. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mattia Binotto. And as for what I want ...” He leans in, his gaze intense. “I want Charles Leclerc.”

Your heart races, but you keep your expression neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mattia’s laugh is harsh. “Come now, Doctor. Let’s not play games. I know all about your ... relationship with Charles. I’ve been watching you both for quite some time.”

“Why?” You demand, tugging futilely at your restraints. “What does Charles have to do with this?”

Mattia leans back, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Everything, my dear. You see, I used to work for Charles’ father. I was his right-hand man, his most trusted advisor. And how did the old man repay my loyalty? By kicking me out, exiling me from Monaco.”

You listen, your mind racing. Charles had mentioned conflicts within the organization, but this ... this was something else entirely.

“So this is about revenge?” You ask, trying to keep him talking.

Mattia’s eyes flash dangerously. “Revenge, yes. But also reclamation. What was taken from me, I intend to take back. And you, my dear doctor, are the perfect bait.”

Fear claws at your insides, but you push it down, channeling it into anger instead. “Charles won’t fall for this. He’s smarter than that.”

“Oh, I’m counting on his intelligence,” Mattia says, standing up and beginning to pace. “You see, Charles knows exactly who I am and what I’m capable of. He’ll come for you, make no mistake. And when he does ...” Mattia’s smile is chilling. “Well, let’s just say I have quite the reunion planned.”

You struggle against your bonds, your mind whirling. “You’re insane if you think you can take on Charles and his entire organization.”

Mattia stops pacing, turning to face you. “Insane? No, Doctor. Prepared. I’ve spent years planning this, gathering allies, waiting for the perfect moment. And you ...” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You jerk away from his touch. “You are the key to it all.”

“Don’t touch me,” you snarl, glaring up at him.

Mattia chuckles. “Feisty. I can see why Charles is so taken with you. It will make breaking you all the more satisfying.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. “If you hurt me, Charles will-”

“Charles will what?” Mattia interrupts, his voice mocking. “Come charging in to save you? That’s exactly what I’m counting on, my dear.”

You fall silent, realizing that every word you say is potentially giving Mattia more ammunition. Instead, you focus on studying your surroundings, looking for any potential way out.

Mattia seems to sense your shift in focus. He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “Don’t bother looking for escape routes. This room was designed to hold people far more dangerous than you. You’re not going anywhere until Charles arrives.”

Pulling back, he checks his watch. “Speaking of which, I imagine he’s discovered your absence by now. Shall we give him a call?”

Your eyes widen as Mattia pulls out a phone — your phone. He scrolls through your contacts, finding Charles’ number.

“No, don’t-” you start, but Mattia silences you with a sharp look.

He puts the phone on speaker as it rings. After two rings, Charles’ voice comes through, tense and worried. “Y/N? Where are you? Your security detail lost track of you hours ago.”

Mattia’s grin is triumphant as he speaks. “Hello, Charles. It’s been a long time.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Charles responds, his voice low and dangerous. “Mattia. If you’ve hurt her, I swear-”

“Now, now,” Mattia interrupts. “Your precious doctor is fine. For now. Whether she stays that way depends entirely on you.”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “Charles, don’t listen to him! It’s a trap!”

Mattia backhands you, the slap echoing in the small room. “Quiet!”

“Y/N!” Charles’ voice is anguished. “Mattia, I’m warning you-”

“You’re warning me?” Mattia laughs. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making threats. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to come alone to the address I’m about to send you. If I see any of your men, if I even suspect you’ve involved your friends in the police, the good doctor here will suffer the consequences. Understood?”

There’s a tense pause before Charles responds. “I understand. Let me speak to her.”

Mattia considers for a moment, then holds the phone closer to you. “Make it quick.”

“Charles,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Don’t do this. It’s not worth-”

“Y/N, listen to me,” Charles interrupts, his voice intense. “I’m coming for you. Just hold on. I promise, I’ll make this right.”

Before you can respond, Mattia pulls the phone away. “How touching. You have one hour, Charles. Come alone or she dies.”

He ends the call, turning to you with a satisfied smirk. “And now, we wait.”

The next hour is agonizing. Mattia leaves you alone in the room, your mind racing with possibilities, each worse than the last. You test your restraints, but they hold firm. The chair is bolted to the floor, leaving you no way to move.

Just when you think you can’t take the suspense any longer, the door opens. Your heart leaps, thinking it might be Charles, but it’s Mattia who enters, followed by two burly men.

“It seems your knight in shining armor has arrived,” Mattia announces, his eyes glinting with malice. “Let’s make sure we give him a proper welcome, shall we?”

He nods to one of the men, who moves behind you. You feel the cold press of a gun barrel against your temple.

“Is this really necessary?” You ask, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

Mattia shrugs. “Insurance, my dear. Can’t have you trying anything heroic when Charles arrives.”

As if on cue, there’s a commotion outside the room. The door bursts open and Charles strides in, his eyes immediately finding yours.

“Y/N,” he breathes, relief and worry warring in his expression.

“Charles, no,” you plead. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s a trap!”

Mattia steps forward, clapping slowly. “Bravo, Charles. Right on time, and alone, as instructed. I must say, I’m impressed by your obedience.”

Charles tears his gaze from you to glare at Mattia. “Let her go, Mattia. This is between us.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mattia replies, circling around to stand behind you. He places his hands on your shoulders, and you struggle not to flinch. “You see, your lovely doctor here is my insurance policy. Insurance that you’ll listen very carefully to what I have to say.”

Charles’ jaw clenches, but he remains still. “Say your piece, then.”

Mattia’s grip on your shoulders tightens. “It’s quite simple, really. I want what’s rightfully mine. The position your father stole from me, the respect I deserve. You’re going to step down, hand over control of the organization to me, and leave Monaco. Forever.”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “Charles, don’t do it! You can’t trust him!”

The gun presses harder against your temple, silencing you.

Charles’ eyes flick between you and Mattia, his expression unreadable. “And if I refuse?”

Mattia’s laugh is cold. “Then you get to watch your beloved doctor die, slowly and painfully, before I kill you too. Your choice, Charles.”

The tension in the room is palpable as Charles considers his options. You try to catch his eye, to silently communicate that your life isn’t worth the price Mattia is demanding. But Charles’ gaze is fixed on Mattia, his mind clearly racing.

Finally, Charles speaks, his voice eerily calm. “You’ve made one critical mistake, Mattia.”

Mattia’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? And what’s that?”

A small, dangerous smile plays at the corner of Charles’ lips. “You assumed I came alone.”

In that instant, several things happen at once. The lights in the room suddenly cut out, plunging everything into darkness. You hear the sound of breaking glass, followed by several muffled thuds. Someone grabs you, and for a moment you panic, thinking it’s Mattia. But then a familiar voice whispers in your ear.

“It’s me, Y/N. Hold still.”

It’s Pierre. You feel him cutting through your restraints. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you make out shapes moving in the room — Charles’ men, you realize, taking down Mattia’s guards.

When the lights flicker back on, the scene has completely changed. Mattia and his men are on the ground, subdued by Charles’ team. Charles himself is standing over Mattia, a gun pointed at his head.

“You’re right, Mattia,” Charles says, his voice cold. “This was between us. You should have left Y/N out of it.”

As Pierre helps you to your feet, you stumble, your legs weak from being bound for so long. Charles is at your side in an instant, supporting you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “I’m okay. How did you ...”

Charles manages a small smile. “Did you really think I’d come unprepared? My men were in position before I ever entered the building.”

You lean into him, relief washing over you. “I thought ... I was so scared you’d give in to his demands.”

Charles’ arm tightens around you. “Never. I would never let him hurt you, Y/N.”

As Charles’ men secure Mattia and begin to lead him away, you turn to Charles. “What happens now?”

Charles’ expression turns grim. “Now, we make sure Mattia can never threaten us again. And then ...” He looks down at you, his eyes softening. “Then we talk about upgrading your security. Because I’m never letting something like this happen again.”

***

The morning after your harrowing ordeal, you find yourself seated in the hospital’s main conference room, feeling as though you’ve stepped into some sort of surreal dream. To your left sits Charles, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. Across the table, the hospital’s board of directors fidget nervously, their eyes darting between you, Charles, and Dr. Beaumont, who sits at the head of the table.

The tension in the room is palpable as Dr. Beaumont clears his throat. “Well, Mr. Leclerc, Dr. Y/L/N, thank you for meeting with us on such short notice. I understand there’s been some ... concerns about security?”

Charles leans forward, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of steel. “Concerns would be putting it mildly, Dr. Beaumont. Dr. Y/L/N was kidnapped from your parking lot last night. I think that warrants more than just concern.”

You can see the color drain from Dr. Beaumont’s face. “Kidnapped? I ... we had no idea. Dr. Y/L/N, are you alright?”

All eyes turn to you, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “I’m fine, thank you. It was a ... misunderstanding that’s been resolved.”

Charles’ hand finds yours under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “A misunderstanding that could have ended very differently. Which is why we’re here to discuss new security measures.”

Dr. Beaumont nods, still looking shaken. “Of course, of course. What did you have in mind?”

“Two of my personal security team will accompany Dr. Y/L/N at all times while she’s on hospital grounds,” Charles states, his tone brooking no argument.

There’s a moment of stunned silence before one of the board members, Dr. Rossi, speaks up. “Mr. Leclerc, while we certainly understand your concern, having armed guards in a hospital environment is highly unorthodox. It could make patients uncomfortable, not to mention the potential liability issues ...”

Charles’ eyes narrow. “I’m not particularly concerned with what’s orthodox, Dr. Rossi. I’m concerned with Y/N’s safety.”

You decide to intervene, hoping to smooth things over. “Perhaps we could find a compromise? The security team could maintain a discreet distance, only stepping in if necessary?”

Dr. Beaumont latches onto this suggestion eagerly. “Yes, that sounds more reasonable. We could provide them with visitor badges, allow them access to staff areas ...”

“No,” Charles cuts in firmly. “They stay with Y/N at all times. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

Another board member, Dr. Chen, leans forward. “Mr. Leclerc, please understand our position. We have protocols, regulations to follow. Having armed personnel constantly present could jeopardize our accreditation.”

Charles’ smile is cold. “I’m sure exceptions can be made, Dr. Chen. After all, I’d hate to think that the hospital values bureaucratic red tape over the safety of its star surgeon.”

The implied threat hangs heavy in the air. You can see the administrators exchanging nervous glances.

Dr. Beaumont attempts to regain control of the situation. “Now, let’s not be hasty. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that satisfies everyone. Mr. Leclerc, what if we were to increase our own security measures? Install more cameras, hire additional guards ...”

Charles shakes his head. “Not good enough. My men are highly trained professionals. They stay with Y/N.”

You can see the frustration building on the faces of the board members. Dr. Rossi tries again. “Mr. Leclerc, please be reasonable. We can’t just allow civilians to roam freely through sensitive areas of the hospital. There are privacy concerns, not to mention-”

“I think you misunderstand me,” Charles interrupts, his voice dangerously soft. “This isn’t a request. It’s happening. The only question is whether you choose to cooperate or not.”

The threat in his words is unmistakable. You watch as the color drains from Dr. Rossi’s face.

Feeling the need to defuse the tension, you speak up. “Perhaps we could implement this on a trial basis? See how it works for a month and then reassess?”

Dr. Beaumont seizes on this suggestion like a lifeline. “Yes, excellent idea, Dr. Y/L/N. A trial period would allow us to address any issues that arise and make adjustments as necessary.”

Charles considers this for a moment before nodding slowly. “A trial period is acceptable, provided there’s no interference with my security team’s duties.”

Relief is palpable around the table, but it’s short-lived as Charles continues.

“Of course, I understand this arrangement may cause some ... inconvenience for the hospital. To that end, I’m prepared to make an additional donation to help smooth things over.”

The board members perk up at this, their expressions shifting from worry to interest.

Dr. Beaumont leans forward eagerly. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Leclerc. What sort of donation did you have in mind?”

Charles’ smile is predatory. “Let’s say ... sixteen million euros, to be used at the hospital’s discretion. Provided, of course, that my security requirements are met without further argument.”

The room falls silent as the enormity of the offer sinks in. You can practically see the dollar signs in the administrators’ eyes.

Dr. Chen is the first to recover. “Mr. Leclerc, that’s an incredibly generous offer. I’m sure we can work out the details of the security arrangement to everyone’s satisfaction.”

Charles nods, satisfied. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now, shall we discuss the specifics?”

What follows is a detailed negotiation of the security protocols. You watch, somewhat bemused, as the very same administrators who were stammering objections moments ago now fall over themselves to accommodate Charles’ every demand.

By the end of the meeting, it’s agreed that Charles’ security team will have full access to all areas of the hospital, will be allowed to carry concealed weapons, and will have final say on any security matters relating to you.

As the meeting wraps up, Dr. Beaumont turns to you, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Dr. Y/L/N, I hope you know that your safety is our utmost concern. If there’s anything else we can do ...”

You manage a small smile. “Thank you, Dr. Beaumont. I appreciate the hospital’s flexibility in this matter.”

As you and Charles stand to leave, Dr. Beaumont calls out, “Mr. Leclerc, a word in private, if you don’t mind?”

Charles nods, turning to you. “I’ll be right out, Y/N.”

You exit the conference room, your mind whirling. As you wait in the hallway, you overhear snippets of the conversation inside.

Dr. Beaumont’s voice, low and eager, “... sure there isn’t anything else we should know?”

Charles’ reply, cool and dismissive, “... all you need to concern yourself with ...”

A moment later, Charles emerges, his expression softening as he sees you. “Ready to go?”

You nod, falling into step beside him as you walk towards the elevator. “Don’t you think this is all a bit ... excessive?”

He stops, turning to face you. “After what happened last night, I’m not taking any chances with your safety. I can’t lose you.”

The raw emotion in his voice catches you off guard. You reach out, touching his arm gently. “You won’t lose me. But Charles, this is my workplace. I need to be able to do my job without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know. And I’m sorry if this complicates things for you. But please, just give it a chance. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

You study his face, seeing the worry lines etched around his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Despite your reservations, you find yourself nodding. “Alright. We’ll try it your way. But if it becomes too disruptive ...”

“Then we’ll reassess,” Charles finishes, relief evident in his voice. “Thank you, Y/N.”

As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. The world of medicine, with its clear rules and ethical guidelines, seems far removed from Charles’ realm of shadowy deals and armed guards.

“Charles,” you say as the elevator descends, “what exactly did Dr. Beaumont want to discuss in private?”

Charles’ expression turns guarded. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just some details about the donation.”

You’re not entirely convinced, but you decide not to push it. As the elevator doors open, you’re greeted by the sight of two men in suits — clearly Charles’ security team.

Charles nods to them. “This is Andrea and Joris. They’ll be your primary security detail.”

You force a smile, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you both.”

Andrea and Joris nod respectfully, but their expressions remain impassive. You can already tell that this is going to take some getting used to.

As you walk through the hospital lobby, you’re acutely aware of the stares and whispers from staff and patients alike. Charles seems oblivious to the attention, but you feel your cheeks heating up.

“Charles,” you murmur, “people are staring.”

He glances around, then shrugs. “Let them stare. Your safety is more important than gossip.”

You’re about to argue further when you spot Sophia rushing towards you, her eyes wide with concern.

“Y/N!” She exclaims, pulling you into a hug. “I heard you were in some kind of trouble last night. Are you okay? And who are these guys?”

You extract yourself from Sophia’s embrace, acutely aware of Charles and the security team watching. “I’m fine, Sophia. Really. It was just a misunderstanding. As for these gentlemen ...” You gesture vaguely. “They’re, um ...”

“Private security,” Charles interjects smoothly. “In light of recent events, we felt it prudent to take extra precautions.”

Sophia’s eyes dart between you and Charles, clearly bursting with questions. “Private security? Y/N, what’s going on?”

You can feel a headache building behind your eyes. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later, okay?”

She nods, though her expression says this conversation is far from over. “Okay, but you owe me details. Lots of details.”

As Sophia walks away, you turn to Charles with a sigh. “This is going to be a nightmare to explain to everyone.”

Charles’ expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I need you safe. Everything else ... we’ll figure it out together.”

Looking into his eyes, seeing the mix of concern and affection there, you feel your resistance crumbling. Despite the complications, despite the danger, you know that what you and Charles have is worth fighting for.

“Together,” you agree softly.

As you head towards your office, flanked by Andrea and Joris, with Charles by your side, you can’t help but feel like you’re stepping into a new chapter of your life. One filled with more danger and complexity than you ever imagined, but also with a depth of love and protection you never thought possible.

The hospital corridors stretch out before you, familiar yet somehow changed. You take a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them head-on — with Charles (and now apparently with an armed escort) by your side.

***

A year later, life has settled into a new normal. You’ve grown accustomed to the peculiarities of being the personal physician to Monaco’s most powerful man, including the late-night calls and the sometimes bizarre injuries.

Tonight is one of those nights. You’re in Charles’ private medical suite, nestled within his sprawling mansion, tending to yet another gunshot wound. The room is state-of-the-art, rivaling any hospital, but with a touch of luxury that screams Charles.

“Ow! Easy there, mon cœur,” Charles winces as you clean the wound on his upper arm.

You roll your eyes, but there’s affection in your voice as you reply, “Maybe if you’d stop zigging when you should be zagging, we wouldn’t be here so often.”

Charles attempts a charming smile, but it turns into a grimace as you start preparing the sutures. “You know I can’t help it. Danger follows me everywhere.”

“Mhmm,” you hum skeptically. “And I’m sure you do nothing to encourage it.”

As you begin stitching, Charles lets out an exaggerated groan. “Y/N, you’re torturing me. Is this revenge for forgetting our dinner reservation last week?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “If I wanted revenge, I’d let Pierre patch you up instead. Now hold still, unless you want a scar to ruin your perfect skin.”

Charles pouts, looking more like a petulant child than the feared boss of the Monegasque Mafia. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Only a little,” you admit with a smirk. “Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”

As you finish the last stitch, Charles flexes his arm experimentally. “You know, for someone who claims to care about me, you’re awfully indifferent about my pain.”

You start cleaning up, shaking your head in amusement. “Stop getting shot if you don’t want stitches.”

Charles’ hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer. “But it hurts,” he whines playfully. “You should kiss me, treat me with care. I’m your patient, you should be good to me.”

You laugh, gently extracting yourself from his grip. “Nice try. But doctor’s orders are rest and recovery. No strenuous activity for at least a week.”

Charles’ eyes widen in horror. “A week? You can’t be serious. What am I supposed to do for a whole week?”

“I don’t know,” you tease, “maybe try not getting into gunfights? I hear it’s good for your health.”

Charles stands, testing his arm’s mobility. “You know that’s not what I meant. Come on, mon amour, surely there are some ... activities we could engage in that won’t strain my arm?”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “No sex, Charles. You’ll pull your stitches.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Charles groans dramatically, flopping back onto the examination table. Then, a mischievous glint appears in his eye. “What about just a little ... oral attention? That won’t affect my arm at all.”

You can’t help but laugh at his persistence. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Charles grins, clearly thinking he’s won. “But you love me anyway.”

“God help me, I do,” you admit, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “But the answer is still no. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

Charles sighs in defeat. “Fine, fine. But you owe me when I’m healed.”

“I’ll make it worth the wait,” you promise with a wink. “Now, let’s get you to bed. And I mean for sleeping, mister.”

As you help Charles to his feet, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You know, this whole stern doctor act is incredibly sexy. Maybe we could role-play once I’m better?”

You playfully swat his uninjured arm. “Behave or I’ll have Pierre stand guard outside our door to make sure you rest.”

Charles chuckles as you guide him out of the medical suite and towards the bedroom. “You wouldn’t dare. Pierre’s terrified of walking in on us after last time.”

The memory makes you blush. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look him in the eye.”

As you reach the opulent bedroom, you help him settle into bed. He catches your hand as you turn to leave. “Stay with me?” He asks, his voice soft and vulnerable in a way few people ever get to hear.

Your resolve melts. “Just to sleep. I mean it, Charles.”

You kick off your shoes and climb into bed beside him, careful not to jostle his injured arm. Charles immediately pulls you close with his good arm, nuzzling into your neck.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Not just for this, but for everything. For patching me up, for putting up with my dangerous life, for ... for loving me despite it all.”

The sincerity in his voice touches you deeply. You turn in his embrace to face him, cupping his cheek gently. “Charles, I don’t love you despite your life. I love all of you, dangerous parts included. Though I could do with fewer midnight patch-up sessions.”

Charles chuckles softly. “I’ll try to schedule my injuries for more convenient times in the future.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “How about trying to avoid injuries altogether?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Charles teases, but then his expression turns serious. “I know my life isn’t easy, Y/N. I know I ask a lot of you. If it ever becomes too much ...”

You silence him with a gentle kiss. “Stop right there. I’m not going anywhere. I knew what I was getting into, and I choose this — I choose you — every day.”

Charles’ arms tighten around you, mindful of his injury. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Probably not,” you agree with a smirk. “But you’re stuck with me anyway.”

As you lay there in comfortable silence, your mind drifts to the events of the past year. The increased security measures, the close calls, the exhilarating highs and terrifying lows of being part of Charles’ world. It hasn’t been easy, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“What are you thinking about?” Charles asks softly, noticing your contemplative mood.

You trace lazy patterns on his chest as you answer. “Just ... everything. How much has changed in a year. How different my life is now.”

Charles tenses slightly. “Do you ever regret it? Getting involved with me, I mean.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him properly. “Never. It’s crazy and dangerous and sometimes I think I must be out of my mind, but I’ve never been happier.”

The relief on Charles’ face is palpable. “Even when I wake you up at ungodly hours to stitch me up?”

“Even then,” you assure him with a smile. “Though I reserve the right to be grumpy about it.”

Charles laughs, then winces as the movement jostles his arm. “Fair enough. I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t accidentally stitched anything embarrassing into me yet.”

You grin mischievously. “Don’t give me ideas. I’m sure ‘Drama Queen’ would look lovely across your bicep.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Charles gasps in mock horror.

“Try me,” you challenge playfully. “Keep whining about your injuries and find out.”

Charles pulls you closer, nuzzling into your hair. “Alright, alright. I’ll be a model patient from now on.”

You snort in disbelief. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Now get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

As Charles’ breathing evens out, you find yourself marveling at the turn your life has taken. From a chance encounter in a dark alley to this — sharing a bed with one of the most powerful men in Monaco, patching up bullet wounds in the middle of the night.

It’s not the life you ever imagined for yourself, but as you feel the steady beat of Charles’ heart beneath your hand, you know it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. Dangerous, complicated, and wonderfully yours.

You press a soft kiss to Charles’ chest, careful not to wake him. “I love you,” you whisper, knowing that no matter what challenges tomorrow brings, you’ll face them together.

As sleep begins to claim you, your last coherent thought is a mix of amusement and affection. You make a mental note to stock up on lollipops – it seems your most frequent patient has a penchant for post-treatment rewards, and you have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot more of his pouty face in the future.

But that’s okay. Because for every whine, every pout, every dramatic sigh, there’s also the fierce protectiveness, the tender moments, and the love that radiates from Charles in everything he does. It’s a package deal, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to Charles and let sleep take you, ready to face whatever adventures — or misadventures — tomorrow might bring.

[bunnys-kisses]

unconventional payment

charles leclerc

cw: no smut, mafia au, au-typical violence, mafia boss!charles, gambling, smoking, blood, scary!charles, forced marriage

basically charles beats the shit out of your fiance for selling you away to get rid of a gambling debt! enjoy!

this bunny runs on tags, comments & reblogs! feed the bunny! (also tell me if you want more of this, i wrote this on a weird whim)

it was very clear that your current fiance had a gambling problem, it start off quite innocent, a few dollars here and there. then it grew to jewellery and eventually the necklace your grandmother gave you went missing. any paycheck he got went down the drain within a few days and you had to stretch your budget to cover for it.

it was at that point you should've packed up your things and left. but you moved with him to monaco to live a nice life. without him, you really had nowhere else to go. so you stayed and watched the money drip away like a leaky tap.

you were furious when you lost your apartment, you snapped your jaws at him like a dog. but what else were you supposed to do. you shoved him and yelled with tears in your eyes. how dare him. how dare this selfish man play you like a fool!

until he told you he could win it all back, but the stakes were higher. not only was your engagement ring on the line, but your hand in marriage too. the highest stake of them all, you.

you dressed nicely for the event at the casino, your hands shook as you got ready. he had pawned most of your nice clothes for cash, and the thought made your blood run cold.

you ended up having to take the bus to the casino because your fiance had sold off his car to pay for his habit. it was at this moment you should've turn away and got the first flight back home. your parents would be happy to see you.

eventually you were seated at the table with your hopes held high. you kept your head high as you sat across the table with the mafia boss that your fiance was tangled up in.

he was handsome, when he spoke, it seemed like he was speaking to you. his voice laid over your shoulders like a heavy blanket. it scared you a little.

you reached for your fiance and said, your voice a little tight, "please. win this." you earned a reassuring nod and a kiss on the roundness of your cheek.

and then he went and lost it, all of it. you held your head high as you looked at this pathetic man you once called a fiance. you said with all the strength in your voice, "congratulations, dear. you have truly fucked me over." and did not break into tears as you felt the strong hand of the boss' bodyguard against your back.

it was only when you were shuffled into the car that you broke down. sobs raked your body as you hunched over in the leather seat of a car that was probably financed by all the money you fiance lost.

the boss got in soon after, his hand in yours. it was far more gentle than you expected from a man who probably killed for fun. his other hand wiped your tears. he sighed, "don't cry, mon petit oiseau."

you sniffled and pulled away from him, with venom in your voice, "how could i not be, i just got sold off like a prize winning hog! so you can what, sell me on the black market!"

the boss looked at you and reached for you, but you pulled away. you made yourself smaller. you pleaded for him to not touch you, so he didn't. he however got closer to you in the backseat on the car and took off his suit jacket and gloves.

he placed the jacket over your shoulders and placed the gloves in your lap. he said in a soft voice, "you hold onto these for a moment." then got out of the car. he softly closed the door behind him.

you heard a noise outside and moved towards the car door that the boss exited out of. you opened the door and near the casino, partially concealed by the wall of the building. it was the boss, holding your fiance to the ground while he punched the living daylights out of him. the sound of his fist hitting your lover's face was disgusting and honestly scared you.

but deep down, a sick part of you liked seeing your bastard of an ex-fiance get beaten down for everything he had done. everything he had done to you.

the boss let go of your fiance when he caught the sight of you. and got back up. he looked down at the other man and gave him a sharp kick in the side before he rolled up his shirt sleeves further. he said, "a man who is willing to sell his woman deserves worse than death. you should be lucky to be alive, but if i see you in my casino ever again."he shook his finger at the other man, "they'll never find you."

both men looked to you and your ex fiance tried to say something, but the boss' voice cut through, "oiseau, close the door. i will be with you in a moment."

you swallowed, you really didn't have options now did you? you closed the door and sat in the back quietly. you shook a little, but exhaled deeply to compose yourself.

you looked to the boss' bodyguard in the front seat. you asked, "does he do this a lot? like, take women as payment."

the bodyguard rolled down the window to exhale his cigarette smoke, "no. usually he just kills them after a while." the man's accent was dutch and he appeared like he had seen this a million times, "if you're worry about him selling you, he won't. you're a little too old for the market."

"seriously!!" you exclaimed.

the bodyguard laughed, "i'm joking. i'm joking! he doesn't work in that field. you're fine. the agreement was your hand in marriage. he can't very well marry you if you're sold off somewhere."

you rested back in the seat, you curled the jacket closer around your shoulders and sighed, "this is insane. this has to be a dream. how did he even know what i looked like? i could've been... hideous!"

the bodyguard flicked the cigarette out the window and shifted in his seat, "oh... you don't know."

you tensed, "what don't i know, mister bodyguard?" as if tonight hadn't rattled you enough.

he looked over his shoulder, those blue eyes of his looked haunting in the low light of the parking lot. he reeked of cigarettes and cologne as he replied, "your fiance a few nights ago showed my boss, me and another gentleman nude photos of you. i could see why my boss and the other man were so willing to jump at the chance to have you all to themselves. honestly, you got the better option. charles is a good man. you were a gamble worth taking in his eyes.

your heart sank, the man you had been with for close to five years had paraded around your nudes to a bunch of mafia strangers? you thought your eyes were going to bug out of your head.

"how many photos?" as if that would make a difference.

the bodyguard shrugged, "i'd say about five, six? it was hard to look away in all honesty. he was also very drunk when he said that you were a fool for letting this go on for so long."

"oh... okay."

you had enough. you opened the door and found the boss still beating the shit out of your fiance. you stepped out with the jacket on your shoulders and his gloves in your hand. you walked towards them.

after everything you gave up to be with him, everything you let be stolen from under your nose. he had the audacity to parade your naked images around like you were some kind of whore. tears stung your eyes once more.

the boss was breathing heavily and your ex-fiance's face was almost unrecognizable. you placed a hand on the boss' shoulder and your words pierced through the cloudiness of his mind.

"honey." you said, you leaned forward to the man and said, "i don't think you should mess up your hands too much. these gloves look expensive and i'd hate for you to get blood all over them." you showed the gloves to the boss.

he looked over to you and the corner of his mouth turned upwards. he pulled away from your fiance, and carefully curled your hand around the gloves, "well then, why don't you take care of them until my hands are healed."

you trembled, he was quite scary up close. you held your voice as you said, "well, then maybe you should stop punching garbage. i'm assuming you have a home to show me, now?"

the boss fully smiled as he gravitated closer to you. away from the other man. he draped an arm over your shoulders and guided you back to the car, "of course, of course." as you walked back, he looked over his shoulder as your ex-fiance and then spat on the ground away from you. your ex fiance better get out of the country fast, or else charles would stick to his word.

back in the car, he draped an arm around you and looked into your eyes. his smile for you held as he said, "you really are something. may i kiss you?"

you felt heat crawl into your face, "you punched the shit out of my fiance and now you want to kiss me?"

he replied, "he wasn't much of a fiance now was he? sold you away like he did all of your valuables. like that necklace."

"he told you about it?"

charles nodded, "all about it. how much it meant to you. how much value was in it. every little detail about the thing. it was honestly so touching that i couldn't bring myself to sell it. now, why don't we go home? i'll give it back to its rightful owner." he moved closer to you, "think of it as a wedding gift. to the future mrs. leclerc."

you licked your lips and said, "you won't take it away?"

he shook his head, "no, no. even if we get a divorce, you have my word that you'll walk away with the necklace. i believe family is important and heirlooms should be kept and not sold away."

you swallowed, "alright then, mister leclec. you may kiss me."

he chuckled and broke out into a boyish grin, "your little fiance wasted such potential." he moved hair out of your eyes, "but don't worry, oiseau, you'll spread your wings and go to new heights with me." then kissed you gently on the lips.

and then into the night, you left your old life behind. thoughts of your ex fiance were pushed into the back of your mind as charles buckled you into the seat and kissed you on the forehead with such a tenderness that it was hard to believe both of his knuckles were covered in blood and bruised. <3

tbc?

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 - chapter one mafia! charles leclerc x fem! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . after preparing your whole life to be married off to a mafia boss, you now have the difficult task of figuring out your new marriage and life, ensuring they don't turn out to be miserable.

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chapter one summary . . . it's hard to process as the day goes by and you cant snap yourself out of your thoughts. it has happened but it has not yet registered, and as charles holds your hand, you can't help but let your mind wander on what comes next. (448 words) content warning . . . ( contains smut, 18+ mdni; pnv, vanilla mostly, over stim if you squint, inexperienced/virgin! reader )

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The croaking in the night gave you a sense of comfort. Leaning your arms on the balcony railing, you watched the trees sway in the cool wind. The high moon provided enough light to see the wide garden below, on which you plan to add more colour and atmosphere.

There are many things for you to figure out in the morning, the most important being getting this chaotic villa in order and mapping out the neighbourhood to find the pond where all the frogs are probably residing.

You’ll, of course, have to figure out your new responsibilities as well. As the wife of Charles Leclerc and the co-leader of the Monégasque underworld, many duties are waiting for you.

The most important of which is probably making sure that Charles didn't drive himself nuts; helping him save some sanity for family time and personal duties that come with being a mortal human.

Speaking of Charles. You heard the door of the ensuite bathroom click open. Glancing through the corner of your eye without turning fully you could see the red towel wrapped around his waist, his body shining with just a bit of the water that hasn't dried yet.

You looked back in front of you when he noticed you looking down to stubbly study him. You could hear his footsteps near and the towel brushing against his skin. He was probably drying himself.

"You'll get a cold," He muttered leaning on the railing beside you. You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from mumbling a comment about him being more naked than you. And just as gently as he has been with you all day, Charles puts the red towel on your wet hair.

You turned your head, staring deep into his green eyes— a beautiful colour you could never understand. You stayed still, watching as he stood up straight to gently ruffle your hair dry with the towel using both his hands.

Your eyes fluttered shut from a stray strand which Charles quickly brushed away moving to stand behind you to take care of your hair. When you open your eyes again you see that the moon had set. It left the sky and neighbourhood dark in its wake.

You don't know where it had gone off to, but that allowed the stars to shine. And for their beauty, you admired. The Grandfather clock downstairs chimed. It was loud you could hear it from here. The old jingle and melody always scared you as a child, especially at night. You never knew you still had that fear.

Charles had noticed your jolt when the chime played. He gently moved your hair off your shoulder placing a kiss to the back of your neck.

Ding, the clock chanted loudly through the empty house, providing you with ever comfort.

You sucked in a breath when you felt the warm muscular hands wrap around your waist.

Two chimes.

The Monegasque's fingers found the string to the string to the silk robe you'd pulled from his closet. It was red. You couldn't understand his obsession with the colour.

Three chimes.

Breathing in and closing your eyes, you felt Charles peer off your shoulders, his fingers delicately pulling the messy bow untied.

The fourth and fifth rings followed as Charles trailed his hands up your shoulders, burying his face in your hair and breathing in. And if you could plead to the stars. Plead that what comes next is as beautiful as they say. Plead that they'd keep you safe.

You gulp as the silk is pulled off to fall at your feet, soft cool wind greeting your skin.

At the 6th ring, Charles wrapped his arms around your stomach and pressed the chest to your back. His body offered you heat and protection. You could feel the lines of his muscles on your back, how his thumb gently stroked the skin of your stomach.

With the next ring, you're body lit up with a gasp. Charles pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, his hands moving to your hips, giving a little squeeze.

The eighth, ninth, and tenth rings followed; each "ding!" giving Charles a cue to kiss more to touch more. And each time you stayed quiet, feeling your chest rise up and down deeply. In fear was it? Or anticipation? Curiosity? Expectation.

On the eleventh ring, you let Charles pull your cheek back so he could press a kiss to your lips. You let the stars out of your sight as you kissed back, electricity stinging you somehow in your lower spine. His lips were soft. Softer than you expected.

Feeling another set of lips on yours felt weird as well. Feelings his lips. Charles' lips. Charles' back. Charles' fingers, his arms, his chest rising and falling, the steady lub-dub lub-dub vibrating in his chest onto your back.

Such foreign. Feelings that you don't understand and don't want to end.

When the twelfth ring comes, Charles takes a step back and pulls you with him from your hips. But you don't go with him and his touch disappears. Your hands gripped the railing until your knuckles turned white, preventing you from returning to the warm bedroom with him.

You face front and look down at the garden. And for some reason, your body felt empty as you listen to Charles sigh and retreat to the warm bed.

You look up to the stars, wishing they could provide you with some comfort. And if they could talk, they'd most likely scold you.

Charles is not your enemy. He's not going to hurt you, he's shown that a lot today. He's going to be the rest of your life. And you don't want to make this situation worse. You want to be happy. You want a happy marriage.

Charles looked up from where he sat on his side, his eyes following you as you stepped inside, closing the sliding glass after yourself and taking steps till you were standing in front of him.

You pulled the two rings off your finger, sliding the wedding band back on and holding the purity ring for Charles to take. He looked up at you, understanding what you were asking him to do. What you didn't expect him to do was hold your hand and hold your palm to his mouth, leaving a kiss as he pulled the ring in his mouth.

Your face flushed red at the look his eyes gave you as he looked up at you through his eyebrows, moving his tongue in his mouth to wear the ring on his tongue.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Relax," Charles huffed, holding your hips down as he ripped open a packet with his other hand and teeth. "You know you can look," He says sliding the condom on.

"I— I don't know." You stutter, keeping your head laid back with your eyes screwed shut, hands over your face from the embarrassment you're feeling. The man chuckles and holds your hips. His smile widens when you yelp as he pulls your lower back onto his lap so your body is at an angle.

"I want you to look, I want you to know what's happening." He tries again, peeling your wrists off your face when he's unsuccessful and pinning them to your stomach instead. "Open your eyes," He ordered rather softly and you complied.

"There's nothing to be scared of," Charles promises as you run your eyes over the position he put you in before looking back in his green eyes. The brunette was sitting on his knees with your ass on his lap, your parted thighs at either side of his waist, his hands gently pining your wists down.

"Tell me if it's too much, if you want to stop, if it hurts, if you don't like it." He says, pulling you further up on his lap, leaning to bend his toes forward for extra support. "I'm with you the whole time," He whispered once more time, looking down at you.

Charles found himself laughing as your face flushed, embarrassed by the noise you made. "It's okay," He tells you with a smile, one that is oddly comforting. The Monegasque had barely pushed in and you'd squeaked loudly in surprise. You frowned, feeling a sense of shame and humiliation that he laughed.

A grunt left your lips as he shuffled closer and pulled you higher in his, leaning his body to yours. "It's okay," he smiles again, trying to get you to relax. You let him kiss you, hesitantly copying his movements to kiss him back. "You learn fast," Charles grunted pushing his hips and pulling yours.

A strangled cry left your lips which was swallowed in a kiss quickly by the man on top. Your hands flew out of his grip, one finding his hand another an arm. "You're doing great," His comforting voice came again, pushing further causing your body to arch up to his. He held back your arm and hand, pressing the latter to his chest.

"You're doing so good," He praised as you pressed your head back in discomfort, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "So good, amour."

"You're going to split me," You whimpered, digging your nails into his arm and heels in the mattress. The feeling was foreign, stretching you out too far in hot pain. You didn't know what to make of the part of Charles inside.

"No no no," Charles shook his head, leaning his hands on either side of his head so he could hold his body up and show you. "Look, you're taking me so well," He held your cheek for a moment before putting his hand on your stomach.

You're glad at least one of you knew what he was doing. When you're body accepted Charles he'd started moving slowly, you were glad that he let you hold his hands, even entwining your fingers together.

This time around, you let the noises roll past your lips as Charles thrust his hips to meet yours. He held up your hands above your head, fingers entwined, bodies pressed together, utterly connected. He drank every moan you gave him like a starved man, leaving hickeys where he kissed your neck and shoulders.

At some point you found your arms wrapped around his back, your nose nuzzled in his neck. You felt your body rock back and forth with the quick pace of his thrusts, feeling deliciously full. It felt like you were whole. Like all the wrongs in the world were correct. Like this was where you were meant to be, all along.

With every pull and push, your tummy flutters and a soft moan falls from your lips.

Charles was grunting and moaning now too, his soft breath in your ear as he whispered to you in French. And you had to admit you loved his voice, his noises. Seeing him in this state— it was a beautiful sight, one you admired with half-lidded eyes.

Hearing him call your name as he nibbled on your ear and neck, whispering things like 'You fit me perfectly,' or 'You feel so good I don't think I'll stop,' or 'You're so perfect'. It filled you with confidence maybe a bit of bravery. It made some coil— some ecstasy inside of you tighten in an overwhelming intensity. And for some reason, you wanted to snap the coil.

"So tight?" Charles huffed, trying to push deeper, to explore and memorize you. You've heard the term "cock-drunk" before and now you understand. The feeling of veins dragging against your wars, his length twitching here and there. "You're close?" Charles asked.

"Close?" You asked through pants and little moan-hums, voice barely above a whisper. You move a hand to your head and look back to see how far your head is from bumping into the headboard.

Charles chuckled and smiled. He found it cute how little you knew. "Close here," He corrected, moving a hand down to your core, catching some of your dripping arousals before coating your clit.

His smile widened at your reaction, the way your back arched up into his chest, soft boobs against his hard abs, bouncing with every thrust; the way your hand left your head and gripped on his hair instead, a full needy moan leaving your lips that you couldn't bother to subdue.

"You're so pretty," Charles says, breath hot on your chest, peaking down to watch as his thumb press on your clit. He smiled again with a low laugh at the way you squirmed and moaned, pressing your face further into his neck. "I love how you react to me. So perfect for me. So Pure."

You felt his weight increase on you, a breathy moan echoing in your throat as he reached deeper inside you. "You're— s— so far in," you try to speak, looking in his eyes with furrowed brows.

Charles chuckles down with a, the hand he'd used previously to hold himself up with now cups your jaw instead. "Am I?" He asks, kissing you. You nodded, humming a 'mhm'. "How far?" He asks further, pinching your clit between his forefinger and thumb.

"S— so far—" You cut yourself off with a gasp and a whine, arching your back up and trying to pull him down. "Charles," the name is begged quietly. Charles only smiles softly, panting as he presses circles to your clit with his thumb, watching you squirm and whine.

"So sensitive aren't you? So pure. For me to love. For me to take, to ruin." He hums, thrusting a few more times until your body spasms beneath him. He relished in the loud whine, leaning his hands on either side of his head as he fucked you through your first orgasm while you hold onto his shoulders whimpering beneath him as the pleasure becomes too much.

Charles slows down to a stop before you're overstimulated. Gently, he takes your hands from his shoulders and presses kisses to your forehead, whispering praises in French. You didn't understand a single word but you still loved it.

You leaned up to catch his lips, cupping his cheek as you kissed passionately. His warm hand held yours once you pulled away, holding your hands in his lap as he sat back on his knees to look at what he'd done. The image of your rising and falling chest, your spent body, and ruffled hair cascading your face sticking to your forehead with beads of sweat.

"Charles— nghh," You whimpered, feeling his hips thrust. You were not expecting that. Not expecting more. White hot euphoria that made you squirm in discomfort.

"Sorry sorry," Charles apologised, thrusting his hips and watching as your body rocked and jolted. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum," he heaved, relishing in the feeling, moving softly to not overload you too much.

"You're doing great, so great," you could only screw your eyes shut, shuffling your legs at his sides as he chases his pleasure. And as promised, he climaxed on top of you. You could feel his body shudder and hear a low moan. You watched as he slipped out, both of you tensing for a second before relaxing and falling back with a moan.

You gladly climb onto his chest with his help, holding your hands to your chest as he hugs you, his finger brushing through your hair, a feeling you're starting to adore. "How do you feel?" he asks and all you can bring yourself to whisper as you nuzzle in his neck is a quiet, "Empty," He chuckles, kissing your head as your eyes flutter shut.

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Five

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.6K

Series Masterlist

Her favourite days were the days that Arthur came to visit. She made him a drink as he sat at the bar, and leaned against it. "He didn't tell you he was getting lessons?" She asked as Arthur sipped his drink.

As soon as he put it in the bar, she took it from him and sipped. "You think Charles would tell me anything like that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know him well enough to judge," she mumbled, letting her head fall into her hands. "Honestly, 'Thur, I don't think I want to get to know him well enough."

Arthur offered her a weak smile. "He'll get better, I promise," Arthur said, his fingers reaching out to touch her arm.

He pulled away and stood from the bar. "I've got to go," he said as he stretched.

"Work?" He nodded grimly and she walked around the bar to throw her arms around him. "Try to come back alive, okay?"

Arthur hugged her back. "I'll try."

He took his leave, walking out of the lounge and meeting his brother outside. Charles had refused to come in and now Arthur knew why. He was embarrassed.

When Arthur saw him, he wordlessly climbed into the car.

Back in the club, she walked over to the piano and sat herself down. She didn't play, not yet, instead letting her head fall into her hands.

This life wasn't the one she had envisioned for herself. Even when she was begging her mother to get her piano lessons, she never thought she'd be playing it for her career. She never thought she'd be performing almost every night in a lounge bar.

She never thought that lounge bar would be bought by a member of the Leclerc family.

She had moved to Monaco with the money her parents had left her after they had died. The lounge was supposed to be a temporary job, something to help her pay rent until she found her dream job, whatever that might have been.

Within the four weeks that she had been working at the lounge, it changed ownership. The young, cute guy came in and changed everything.

He redecorated, put in a newer, modern bar, new tables and lighting, and put in a new stage. He got rid of the stage and put in a brand new one, with these fancy lights.

Most of the performers were let go. Actually, every performer but her was let go. She didn't know why Arthur kept her on, but she was incredibly grateful.

She didn't know who Arthur was, didn't know who the Leclerc family was when she first started. Arthur didn't tell her right away. He waited until they were less boss and employee and more friends. When he told her, she didn't judge him. He had proven himself to be lovely and wonderful and she doubted he could hurt a fly.

But Arthur told her almost everything. Before she knew it, it had gone too far, and she knew more than she should have. There was no way she could have gotten out if she wanted to.

Until meeting Charles, Arthur was the only member of the Leclerc family that she really knew. After all he told her, she took time to research them. She found out that Lorenzo was the head of the family. He ran Monaco while trying to make his deceased father proud.

Charles was the ruthless, angry middle child. That was all she knew about him. Anybody who really, truly, knew what he did, well, they had a bullet in their heads.

Arthur was the protected little brother. He'd been on one job before, as far as she knew, and that was when he ended up with a bullet in his arm.

She couldn't help but be worried for her best friend when he left the lounge.

***

"Where are we?"

Arthur looked around at the surroundings as Charles put his car into park. The parking lot was empty, the Verstappen family nowhere to be seen. "We're headed there soon," Charles said. "I... I need to talk to you about something."

He'd never acted like this before. Arthur had never seen his brother, the brother that struck fear into the hearts of anyone that looked at him. "Are you dying?"

Charles glared. "Shut the fuck up. This is serious."

Arthur swallowed.

"Your pianist. How did you get her to like you?"

He let out a laugh as his brother's face went red. When Arthur had first introduced them, in a sense, he had a feeling that they would get along or that Charles would like her. It was a small feeling, and he certainly hadn't expected to be right.

"I can't believe this," she said. "I can't believe it. You have a crush on her! You actually have a crush on her!"

Charles's nostrils flared. "Shut up, I'm not a child," he growled.

Even Arthur was scared enough of his brother that he fell quiet. "I was just nice too her, okay? I didn't flash my guns and I didn't terrify her."

Charles simply grunted. He drove away once again, not speaking a word to his brother. The silence in the car was palpable. Arthur was almost too scared to breathe.

They got to the place where they were meeting the Verstappens. Max leaned against the car while Jos still sat inside. When Charles parked his Ferrari, he pushed away from the car and approached.

Charles and Arthur climbed out of the car. The older Leclerc took the hand that Max was offering him and shook. "Good to see you, mate," he said.

But he looked past Max, looking at Jos in his car. "Is he coming out or..."

"You got somewhere you wanna be, Leclerc?" Max asked with something of a giggle. But it wasn't a proper giggle, because future mafia bosses didn't giggle.

There was a minute where Jos didn't move. He stayed sitting in his car, looking forward. Charles often thought that, anybody who thought him to be terrifying clearly hadn't met Jos Verstappen.

When Jos climbed out of the car, Max returned to his fathers side and the meeting began.

It was the weirdest meeting Charles had ever attended. It was unclear whether Jos wanted to get out of Monaco or to kill them. He was angry, always angry, and he answered in mostly grunts.

Max did most of the talking. Charles walked them around, showed them what they needed to see in their warehouses. He wanted it over and done with as quickly as possible. He had a piano lesson to get to.

When they finally returned to the cars, Jos finally spoke up. "I thought I was to be meeting with Lorenzo," he said.

Arthur went to step forward, but Charles kept him behind. "Sorry, Verstappen, but Lorenzo had things he had to attend to." It wasn't a great excuse, but it was all Charles had. He had no idea what Lorenzo was doing, but he wasn't going to let Verstappen bully his way into a meeting with the head of the family.

Verstappen let out a breath. Wordlessly he climbed into his car. Before the door could shut, he snapped his fingers at Max, who climbed in after him.

Charles and Arthur waited until the Verstappen car had disappeared into the distance until they climbed into Charles' Ferrari. "I'm dropping you at maman's," he said.

"Why? Because it's close to the lounge?"

Charles didn't answer. He only sped up, driving expertly around other cars. When he got to their mothers apartment building, Charles quickly parked and gave Arthur five seconds to get out.

As soon as those five seconds were up he was speeding away again, heading to the lounge. There was maybe an hour before it opened for the night; he figured there was enough time for a lesson.

As he opened the door to the lounge, she was closing the lid of the piano. But, when she saw him, she stopped. "Mr Leclerc," she called. "Charles."

He opened his jacket, revealing no guns. "I come in peace," he called. "I thought we could have a piano lesson."

She nodded her head and he climbed onto the stage. He stripped off his jacket and sat beside her. "You you wanna try something a little more complicated?"

Charles copied her every note. For forty minutes he played at his best. She wouldn't admit she was impressed, she wasn't ready for that much conversation.

But, twenty minutes before the lounge was supposed to open, she stood up. "I'm really sorry, Charles, but we're gonna have to finish. I need to get dinner before we open."

Charles nodded, understanding. He stayed sitting at the piano for a minute more, still playing as she grabbed her jacket and went running out of the lounge. Charles wasn't going anywhere. He was going to stay and watch her performance.

When the rest of the staff started filing into the lounge, Charles stood from the piano. He wandered into the back office and took a seat at the desk. Arthurs desk. In front of him was a schedule.

It wasn't the staff schedule, but a schedule of the performers. And, for every night, there was one name on it.

Suddenly she was running into office. When she saw Charles, she stopped. "Charles I really need to get ready to go on stage."

"Arthur hasn't given you a night off."

"Well, who else do you think is going to perform here," she said as she pulled a black dress from her bag.

Charles clicked his knuckles as he stood up. He was going to have words with Arthur.

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[formulas-bitch]

Masterlist

Charles Leclerc

the dark lord 2 3 4

Come back home x leclerc/sibling 2

Carlos Sainz

media reporter

Lando Norris

the streamer and artist

mafia boss x cafe owner/reader

Oscar Piastri

welcome to the family

Max Verstappen Mate Meant to be

Pierre Gasly

Forbidden Love

Daniel Riccardo

Family above all

Lance Stroll

unknown sister

[fangirl-dot-com]

🔄Reverse Tropes

Let's switch things up a bit. . .

✧summary: normal tropes are boring. Everyone has heard of one bed, getting kidnapped, your brother's best friend; but what if the tropes were reversed?

inspired by a tweet and a reddit post

🛏Too Many Beds Lando Norris x Engineer!Reader

🚕Accidentally Kidnapping a Mafia Boss Max Verstappen x UberDriver!Reader

🪡The Obvious String Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader

😾Really Nice Guy Who Hates Only You Oscar Piastri x Celebrity!Reader

🧡❤️Dating Your Enemy's Sibling Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader

🧠Fake Amnesia Lando Norris x Fan!Reader

✉️Divorce of Convenience Oscar Piastri x Wife!Reader

🤨Everyone is Convinced that You Aren't Together Logan Sargeant x FerrariDriver!Reader

🔥Too Hot to Cuddle Oscar Piastri x TeammateReader

🫂Voluntary Proximity Charles Leclerc x BestFriend!Reader

💔Fake Breakup [But You Two Weren’t Together in the First Place?] Lando Norris x Piastri!Reader

[81folklore-library]

81FOLKLORE FAVORITES

formula one

do-over (time travel fix-it written) - logan sargeant by @pucksandpower

top secret (senna!reader smau) - lewis hamilton by @astonmartinii

poly lestappen (wolff!reader smau) - max verstappen and charles leclerc by @pucksandpower

friendship bracelets (smau) - charles leclerc by @astonmartinii

pen pals (smau) - max verstappen by @astonmartinii

the other woman (smau) - oscar piastri (lando angst) by @formulafics

the other woman (part 2 smau) - oscar piastri and lando norris by @formulafics

speed drive (barbie!driver!reader series) - formula one grid by @disneyprincemuke

accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss (reverse tropes written) - max verstappen by @fangirl-dot-com

the obvious string (reverse tropes written + smau) - max verstappen and charles leclerc by @fangirl-dot-com

everyone is convinced that you arent together (reverse tropes written + smau) - logan sargeant by @fangirl-dot-com

reverse tropes series (written + smau) - formula one grid by @fangirl-dot-com

my boobs (written) - lando norris by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

aussie aussie aussie (smau) - lando norris by @planetpiastri

worlds biggest fan (smau) - max verstappen by @astonmartinii

worlds biggest fan pt2 (smau) - max verstappen by @astonmartinii

mamma mia (smau) - fernando alonso + jenson button + sebastian vettel by @astonmartinii (full series available here)

girl back home (written) - logan sargeant by @sunrizef1

baby blue (written) - logan sargeant by @sunrizef1

i ❤️ MILFS (logan mom written) - max verstappen by @sinofwriting

yeah thats my girl (written) - lando norris by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

harry styles

love on tour memories (written) - harry styles by @harrysfolklore

welcome to the final show (written) - harry styles by @eveningepiphany

[evstostuff]

Consequences To Your Actions

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warning: 18+, language, little bit of nipple play, no sex, bit of dirty talk, French petname, fingering, female receiving

Word count: 1,637….a sort of short one to ease me back in

Note: I just want to apologise for how crappy I have been with my writing. Really really hoping I can get back into it again.

A little bit of excitement for you guys...I have a mafia Carlos idea brewing at the moment so that should be interesting!!

My requests are definitely open so if you want something specific let me know :)

His eyes rolled.

He rolled them into oblivion.

You felt the anger bubble up inside of you. How could he be so stupid to roll his eyes with several cameras, interviewers and team staff. 

His arrogance radiated, everyone could feel it.

Charles had finally got a podium. It was a massive boost to his confidence, hence the whole pompous act he had going on during the post race press conference with Max and Checo.

The press wasn’t paying him any attention and it was clearly eating away at his ego.

His eyes locked on yours. You scowled at him, expressing your distain for his attitude.

Your scolding stare did nothing but bought a smirk to spread across his lips.

His smirk had the desired effect. You could feel the moisture gathering in the lace of your panties.

You and Charles had a mutual agreement. No strings, just sex and keep it quiet. It was a perfect setup, both healing from past relationship wounds and travelling around the world with the same schedule. It satisfied you both. Due to the four week long break between Australia and Azerbaijan, you both hadn’t seen each due to family and work commitments.

The press conference had started to wrap up as you got a text from your boss asking you to come to her office. 

Shit.

She must have seen Charles reaction. Notifications had started to flood in on all social media platforms, picking up on Charles’ little eye roll. 

You stormed out of the media room with Charles following quickly at your heels.

“Y/N wait for me.” The Monegasque shouted after you.

Luckily the Ferrari hospitality wasn’t too far from the media rooms.

Charles’ fingers touched the bare skin on your arm. His touched burned deep into your skin and started to radiate through your body. You were snapped out of your trance as you turned and slammed into his muscular fireproof clad chest.

“What?” 

Confusion flooded his features.

“Y/N…” He whispered.

“You know what Charles, you may have just got a podium after a shitty couple of races but it doesn’t mean you get to ruin everyone else day just because your ego got bruised due the conference.” Your words dripped with venom.

“I’m so sor.”

“Save your apology. Thanks to you I am about to get told off because you cannot control your actions and be mature.”

Charles’ face dropped as he studied your features. He had never seen you this angry before.

You turned away from him and rushed to your manager’s office.

The meeting consisted of you getting scolded like a toddler about how unprofessional Charles had been and that you should’ve prepared him properly for the conference. 

Walking out of the hospitality building you looked at your phone. Two new messages from Charles.

Charles: I am so sorry Y/N, I acted like a dick and didn’t think how it would affect you.

Charles: This is not how I wanted this weekend to go after not seeing you for four weeks. I’m in my drivers room, come see me please x

You sighed. All the anger disappeared at his apology.

Slowly you made your way to his driver room.

His door was left slightly open. “Charles. It’s me.” 

Your eyes scanned the Monégasque. His race suit still hanging off his hips, his fireproof top clinging to ever curve of his muscles. This is how you liked him, post race and untamed. 

“I am so sorry Y/N. I wasn’t thinking at all about how my actions could reflect on you. Please forgive me.” Charles closed the gap between you to enclose your face in his large hands.

His touch sent shivers throughout you body. 

All weekend the pair of you had struggled. You wanted nothing more but to be alone with Charles so that you could both forget about the pressures and demands of the job. 

His eyes stared into yours. The green orbs begged more than his words did for forgiveness. You wanted to forgive him but something about this all seemed like it was far too easy for him.

“I don’t know Charles. That meeting was awful, she really laid into me. If you really are sorry, you’ll show me.” You held Charles eye contact as you detached his hands from your cheeks.

His hopefully eyes dropped into sadness.

“Actions speak louder than words Char.” You purred as you smirked up at him.

You watched Charles’ eyes wash with lust.

“Oh mon cherie, I’m going to show you how sorry I really am.” 

He looked at you like you were his next meal. He played the game of cat and mouse too well. He closed the gap, you stepped back repeatedly until your back hit door. 

Charles wrapped his hand around your neck and slammed his lips on your. The kiss was rough, filled with so much desire, it made your knees weak. You gave up all control to him and let his tongue roam your mouth as his other hand made it’s way down you body and to your skirt.

You were dripping. You arousal started to seem through the lace of your thong and down you thigh as Charles kissed and sucked all the right places on your neck. Your small moans bounced off the walls of his driver room.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me or you’ll get us caught.” Charles whispered in your ear as his fingers dipped into you panties and circled your clit.

He was right where you craved him. The pleasure washed through you. All you wanted to do was moan his name, tell him and everyone how good he made you feel. 

“Take it off.” Charles grunted at you, eyes shifting to your shirt.

You did as you were told. The shirt was gone in seconds.

Charles chuckled.

“You that eager for me to see those pretty tits of yours.” Charles eyes were glued to your breasts as they rose with your heavy breathing.

The feeling of Charles’ fingers was staring to become overwhelming. He was pleasuring you but by god was he dragging it out.

Slow sloppy kisses along your neck.

Gentle nibbles on your earlobes.

Fingers circling your clit leaving you wanting him to do so much more.

“Char pl..please more.” 

Your eyes locked, pleading for him to give you something. His free hand pulled a cup of your bra down.

You watched in awe as Charles’ tongue flicked over your hard nipple, causing you whimper at the pleasure shooting down to your core.

Charles fingers came away from your clit and down towards where your wetness was leaking. Without warning, he pushed one singular finger inside you.

“Charles.” You were getting impatient. The orgasm you craved was teetering on the edge. 

One look in your eyes and Charles knew you were close.

Charles added a second finger. He started off gentle, curling his fingers against your g-spot.

You were a mess. Mascara streamed down your face due to the torture Charles was making you endure.

“I really am sorry mon cherie.” Charles whispered in your ear.

“I only ever want to make that pussy wet.”

The speed of his fingers increased.

“I want to always make you look this fucked every time I have my fingers inside you.”

He adjusted the angle of his fingers.

“I only ever want to hear you moaning my name and begging me to fuck you.”

Charles got faster. It was the perfect combination.

His possessive word caused your head to tilt back against the door as the the knot of pleasure in your stomach started to reach its peak.

“I don’t ever want to make you mad.”

You were so close. Charles could feel you clenching around his fingers.

“Cum for me mon cherie.” Charles whispered as he latched himself to your exposed nipple.

His words of encouragement pushed you over the edge. 

“Fuuuck Char.” 

There was nothing you could do, your whole body washed with pleasure as you throbbed around Charles’ fingers.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl.” Charles cooed, holding you steady as he continued to help you ride out your orgasm.

Charles just watched, dick completely hard against his race suit leaking with pre-cum.

A knock on the door interrupted both of your trances.

“Charles, it’s Pierre you ready to leave yet?”

“Shit what do we do?” You frantically pushed Charles away from you.

“Just go into the bathroom.” Charles picked your shirt up and pushed you towards the small bathroom.

You re-dressed and adjusted yourself whilst trying to listen into what the two drivers where talking about. 

“Mate, why does it look like you’ve just had sex?”

You sniggered at Pierre’s question. Shit. 

The door swung open.

“Hi y/n. Your mascara is a bit smudged” Pierre smirked.

You frantically rubbed at your face trying to remove the marks and hide your embarrassment.

“Erm thanks.” You smiled at the Frenchman.

“Well it’s about time you two did something about the sexual tension. It was really starting to make the paddock uncomfortable.”

Both you and Charles looked at Pierre in confusion. Both of you had tried to be discreet.

He rolled his eyes and tutted.

“I’ll meet you at the car Charles. Don’t be too long will you.” Pierre winked and walked off.

You checked in the mirror that you had removed the mascara smudges from your face and turned to Charles.

“Don’t ever piss me off like that again.” You pointed at him.

“You seemed to enjoy the apology though.” Charles smirked, eyeing you up and down.

“Just because I enjoyed it doesn’t mean you are forgiven.”  You cooed as you went to leave.

Charles grabbed your wrist and span you round into him.

“And how do I get you to forgive me?” He brushed your hair out of your face.

“Actually I have a few ideas, if you wouldn’t mind me trying.” He didn’t give you time to respond before his lips had captured yours in a heated, lust filled kiss.

[racinggirl]

illegally good || Charles Leclerc 16

part of the 700 celebration drabbles!

words: 3k Oh my god, I know I said drabbles, but I promise it's good! I had such a blast writing this, I am in love. Mafia / confident / boss Charles is absolutely my favorite! also, excuse my French, this GIF? URGH. Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy reading! Please let me know your thoughts about this fic below! I'd love to hear your perspective on it :) warnings: mafia, swearing, mentions of murder, kidnapping, abuse (nothing major), all with a fluff ending because you know me

(as a part of my 700 followers celebration, I'm taking requests for drabbles, check this post for more information)

One thing you absolutely hated? Taking care of other people’s dirty jobs, especially when those people were getting the credits for it. Credit you should get, because those people did not deserve a single compliment about their efforts. 

It happened to you, and you were tired of it, tired of the fact you were not getting any promotions – if you could even call it promotions in the business you worked at – or credits for the things you did. So, you quit. You said goodbye to your old life, after months of trying to sneak away, to disappear from the radar entirely, before coming back as a new you.

New name, check. New hair, check. New house, new identity, check. 

All those things happened when you were just 12, growing up in the business your father, who was a leader of the mafia, built, hoping you’d take over that same business one day. But things changed, and especially for being a woman, you knew people wouldn’t listen. They weren’t moving with the years, they weren’t modernizing. No. They were old school, old fashioned and would think of a woman as a side job, someone who’d do all the dirty work, take care of the kids, be safe at home while the men would do the real deal. 

Your father wasn’t happy, at all, when you ran away at the age of 19. You moved countries, all on your own. Away from everything. You had promised your father you wouldn’t tell anyone about his business, about his secret life, if he’d leave you alone. You were the daughter of a mafia boss, after all. You knew how to get the things you wanted. 

Fast forward 3 years, in which you were a ‘normal’ university student. ‘Normal’ because, even though you were just 22 years old, you were rich. You were able to rent an apartment in the highest possible level, in the fanciest country of Europe. Monaco.

That’s why, you and your friends, who were studying fashion in Italy, were now wandering the crowded streets of your country. The Formula One weekend was here, which created thousands of people exploring the streets you called home. 

Loads of celebrity’s called Monaco their home as well, why? Taxes. Money. Living in Monaco meant life was expensive, but it also meant you could afford the expensive lifestyle due to the low taxes. Something that made the decision to moving to Monaco even easier. 

‘’This is amazing.’’ One of your friends exclaimed when you were walking through the paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix, of course you had tickets, you wanted them, so you’d get them. 

‘’It’s quite impressive, indeed.’’ You replied, your hands in the pockets of your jeans as you looked around, the colorful motorhomes of each team slowly appearing in front of you. However, one motorhome stood out, and not because of the color, but because of the person in front of it. 

Charles Leclerc, 25 years old, born and raised in Monte Carlo, Monaco. Formula One driver and loved amongst many. However, that’s not how you knew him. Aside from his job in the motorsports industry, he also was part of a group, and not just a normal group. 

Your father had warned you about them, but you knew it was just so you wouldn’t be sloppy with your work and to make sure you’d deliver the best possible outcomes. You had never met them, the Italian mafia, but you had heard stories. Rumors, about this man in front of you in particular. 

The Formula One career was a perfect cover up for the things he did, since nobody knew about it, and nobody would even believe the stories about Charles Leclerc being a member of the mafia. How could he, he was so innocent, so sweet and gentle. 

‘’Oh, my goodness that’s Charles Leclerc, come on, we should say hi!’’ You mentally strangled your friend the moment she started walking to the Ferrari driver, dragging the rest of your friends along with her. Just perfect. 

‘’Hi, Charles! It’s so nice to meet you, could we get a picture?’’ Charles listened to the ladies, as the gentleman he is, and took the pictures. However, you weren’t going to take one step closer to your enemy. Okay, he wasn’t technically your enemy anymore since you left your fathers business, but you couldn’t betray your family like that. 

‘’Come on y/n, join us for the pictures!’’ Your friends were standing next to Charles, as his racing suit was lowered to his hips, revealing the red fireproof top that fitted him like a glove. 

‘’I’m fine, thanks.’’ You weren’t taking your eyes off the Monegasque, feeling the need to keep an eye on whatever he did, every sneaky movement he’d make would be something you’d see. And he knew, he knew who you were, he knew what you were doing as well. 

However, he didn’t mention it, he didn’t put his active attention on you, knowing it would cause people to become suspicious. However, you weren’t stupid. You knew he knew, and that made you even more careful about your actions. 

‘’Goodluck on the race.’’ Your friends cheered on the driver, who returned a smile. ‘’Thank you, ladies, have fun watching the race. I’m sure you love some action.’’ And you knew those last words were directed towards you, that it was just a sneaky way of letting you know he knew who you were. 

Two months forward, and it was summer in Monaco. The sun was shining, people were swimming in the ocean, tanning on the beach, and you were one of them. As much as you told yourself the things from your past would stay in the past, you couldn’t help but keep thinking about him. Trying to track everything he did whenever you saw him walking through the streets of Monaco, driving his Ferrari, greeting fans. He almost looked innocent. Almost. 

It was late, almost 3 am, when you were walking through the dark streets of Monaco. Maybe you had a little too much to drink, but you for sure weren’t going to stay the night at the club. You were tired and wanted to go home. Your friends, however, were still having the best time of their lives, so you gave them the spare key to your house, not feeling the need to spend 3 more hours in that club. 

You were making your way home, humming slightly to yourself as you suddenly felt two hands gripping your waist, a little tighter than a friendly person would do. The action made you scream, but it was quickly muffled by another pair of hands on your mouth, preventing you from screaming even more. 

Your eyes were wide open, as you tried to identify the two men that were holding you. But it was dark, making it almost impossible for you to see who were hiding under the black beanies and mouth masks. 

‘’Silent, pretty, you’re coming with us.’’ And that’s when you knew. You recognized that voice, not because you’ve heard it live before, but because you heard it over the phone multiple times whenever your father had another heated discussion over the phone. 

‘’And what if I don’t want to, Niccolo.’’ You groaned, but the sharp metal leaning against your side made you clench your jaw, a sigh escaping your lips as your eyes closed to think. 

‘’I don’t think you have a choice, bambina.’’

-

‘’You know I quit 3 years ago, I have nothing, I know nothing.’’ You said as you felt the rope against your wrists, looking up at the right hand of Vincenzo, Niccolo. Before you could speak even more, the big metal door on the left opened, a big man, typical Italian, typical mafia boss, came walking through the doors. 

‘’Vincenzo, we found her, capo.’’ Niccolo spoke up, stepping aside to give the man full access to you. 

He grabbed your jaw, tightly, as he moved your face left to right, checking out your delicate features. ‘’No microphones, no cameras?’’ He grunted, harshly releasing his grip on your face the moment his workers told him you had nothing on you. 

‘’I fucking told you. I quit. I have nothing to do with my father anymore. I guess your minions aren’t the best at keeping an eye out for the competi-‘’ A harsh slap across your face made you shut your mouth, a burning sensation running through your cheek. 

‘’Shut up.’’ Vincenzo glared at you, pacing back and forth as he thought, about you, about your father, about the entire situation in front of him. 

You slowly turned your gaze forward again, moving your jaw left to right to try and get rid of the painful sensation. You stayed silent for a few more seconds, but again, you were the daughter of a mafia boss, this wasn’t the first time you got slapped in the face. 

‘’ You won’t get anything out of me, you know that.’’ You muttered, narrowing your eyes as Vincenzo appeared in front of you, the biggest smirk on his face as he rubbed your still burning cheek. 

‘’I know, bambina, I know, but I’m sure your father would hate to see his precious little daughter on the edge of death.’’ He whispered; the smirk still apparent on his face. You couldn’t help but feel shivers over your entire body. Maybe it was the fact the alcohol was getting out of your system, or maybe it was the intimidation you felt from the man in front of you, but you weren’t going to let them win. 

‘’You should brush your teeth, asshole.’’ You replied, watching the smirk disappear from Vincenzo’s face, followed by a black screen in front of you, the consequence of a harsh smack across the back of your head, causing you to pass out in the uncomfortable wooden chair. 

-

‘’She’s with me, yes.’’ You heard a faint voice on the other side of the room, the bright light from the sun outside being too much for your eyes to bare now, so you closed your eyes again, slowly. 

‘’No, she’s no longer part of the group. Listen to me, Vincenzo. You stay away from her, understood? If I ever see you near her again, I’ll make sure you won’t…’’ That’s all you could hear, the faint voice kept speaking, but you weren’t listening since you passed out again, but this time in a comfortable soft bed. 

You woke up hours later, it was dark outside, and there was a soft music playing in the background, piano music, to be precise. You tried to adjust to the environment for a few seconds before slipping your feet out of the bed, your toes running through the soft carpet at the sides of it. 

You weren’t wearing your party dress anymore, but instead, you were dressed in an oversized shirt, which for sure wasn’t yours. 

The headache at the back of your head was making it hard for you to focus, but you could swear the piano music was live, and not from a random radio station. The flawless melody paired with the fine tunes sounded like magic to your ears, and you followed the sound of the music till you found yourself in a room with the one man you for sure weren’t expecting. 

The music faded, until it completely stopped, but you didn’t move. You watched the back of the man as you leaned against the doorframe, your arms crossed in front of your chest. 

‘’Did you take the painkillers?’’ Was the first thing he said, without even turning around to face you. 

‘’No.’’ You saw them, but you weren’t going to take random pills on the nightstand in a room you didn’t know. 

‘’Are you feeling better?’’ The man asked again, this time slowly turning around to take a decent look at you. 

‘’Why am I here?’’ You asked. ‘’I already told Vincenzo I know nothing about the business my father has right now. So, what the fuck do you want?’’ You were annoyed, mostly by the fact you got kidnapped in the middle of the night, twice. You had lost track of time, not even knowing what day it was right now. 

‘’I’ll take that as a yes.’’ The man said, reaching for the cup of water which was standing on top of the piano. He handed it to you, to which you rolled your eyes. He then took a sip himself, and handed that same cup to you again, which, this time, you accepted. 

‘’Sit down.’’ He said, looking over to the couch after watching you take a sip of the water. 

‘’I’m perfectly fine standing where I am.’’ You replied, playing with the cup of water in your hands. 

‘’Whatever you’d like.’’ The man responded, taking a seat on the couch as he looked at the table in front of him. 

‘’I’d like an explanation, Charles.’’ You spoke. ‘’First, I’m being kidnapped by Niccolo at fucking 3 am after a party with my friends, only to be brought to Vincenzo, who’s not even hesitating a second to murder me. Then he beats me till I pass out, and I wake up in I assume your apartment, after I heard you talk to Vincenzo. What are you going to do to me, Charles, kill me? Hold me hostage? Torture me? I wish you luck, because I’m not giving you a single piece of information.’’ 

Charles sighed, heavily, his gaze moving from the table to you, before getting up from the couch. He walked closer towards you, lifting your chin up carefully to watch the bruises across your face. 

‘’I’m not like that anymore, y/n.’’ He started. ‘’I left the group once my career became serious when I got to Formula One. I’m not your enemy anymore.’’ He mentioned, and at first you didn’t believe him. But once he started to explain everything, from the way he had more power than Vincenzo, how his career in Formula One had become one of the most important things in life, and mainly how he followed you those last couple of months. He knew you were in Monaco, and he quickly found out you were no longer part of your fathers’ group. He almost felt obligated to keep an eye on you, to keep you safe from any of the things he knew Vincenzo would do, but he knew that if he told Vincenzo to stay away from you, he’d only give insight in the fact you were in Monaco, and Charles preferred to keep that a secret. 

However, when they found out you were currently staying in the country, they stroked, and before Charles could even do anything, they had captured you. The only thing Charles could do was demand Vincenzo and his group to bring you to his place, which he immediately did. He saved your life, and why? Because he knew you were innocent, you were just like him, someone that had been thrown at this life, but chose the right path instead of the wrong one. 

Now, years later, and you were walking through that same paddock where you saw him for the very first time. Only this time you weren’t just a stranger anymore. 

‘’y/n! y/n! Over here! This camera!’’ You smiled sweetly at the cameras, flashes lightening the way in front of you as you saw the man standing at the exact same place he was 4 years ago, only this time, he was your man. 

‘’Ciao bella.’’ Charles wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his lips pressing a delicate kiss against your temple as you closed your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’Hey handsome.’’ You responded; a smile painted on your lips as you looked up at your boyfriend. 

‘’Charles! Y/n! such a lovely couple, can you look at this camera for a second?’’ Photographers were slowly gathering around you, at which Charles’ arm wrapped around your shoulder even tighter, in order to keep you safe, to protect you from anything out there. Not that it was needed anymore, because Vincenzo had been arrested, along with the rest of his group. 

‘’Let’s go inside, hmm. I heard we have pizza inside.’’ Charles whispered in your ear, at which your smile grew even wider. ‘’Well then, come on, what are we waiting for?’’ You exclaimed happily, your hand intertwining with his as you walked inside the hospitality. 

But once you walked inside, you were disappointed with the fact there wasn’t a single slice of pizza to be seen. ‘’Charles!’’ You exclaimed, turning around to watch your boyfriend step closer to you. ‘’There’s no pizza…’’ You whispered as his arms wrapped around your waist, your arms resting on his shoulders as you played with the hair at the back of his neck. 

‘’I know, love, I just wanted you to myself.’’ He whispered, placing a few kisses at the corners of your mouth. ‘’And I’ll get you as much pizza as you want tonight.’’ He added, at which the corners of your mouth turned upward almost instantly. 

‘’I love you, Charles.’’ You whispered, closing your eyes as you felt his fingers tucking a single strand of hair behind your ear. 

‘’I love you too, my love, more than you can ever imagine.’’ And with that, he pressed his lips on yours, slowly, softly, but oh so illegally good…

[bunnys-kisses]

Hiii can I please have a profiteroles with a side of Martini and juice served by Charles Leclerc

bakery menu

want to order something? check out the menu! there are all kinds of things on it for your liking! these delicious items are waiting for you! if you want to submit for an order outside of formula one, please do! as for this, i feel so bad that i haven't written enough charles! charles is who got me into f1 originally, so to not write him a lot feels so weird! (the verstappen brain rot is real)! as for this, i love a good mafia au.

profiteroles ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + martini (mafia au) + juice (cockwarming) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!charles, cockwarming, clingy!charles, breast play/worship, college student!reader, devoted!charles

you often found those mafia romance novels that were sold in the grocery stores rather amusing. the cheesy covers and titles, the dumb plots and the over exaggeration of characters. it was all very.. funny.

mostly because you had nabbed yourself your own mafia lover. and while he was one of the most dangerous men in monaco. around you he was a huge suck-up.

while in public he was smiles and a sharp eye. behind the scenes he was vicious and scary. but, when it was just the two of you alone in the mansion you called home. charles leclerc, was mafia prince of monaco, wanted nothing more than to feel the soft flesh of his lover between his calloused hands.

and love you like the precious gem you were.

he had come from a week in the netherlands. it was always nice to see his long time friend, you knew business was talked about, but you tried not to pry too deeply. charles tried to keep your name and face out of that line of work, the last thing he needed was his princess to have a price of her head.

for all everyone knew, you were a simple university student in one of the most beautiful places on earth. he had arrived home and beckoned for you to join him in the shower.

you kissed his bronzed skin, you chuckled when he returned the kisses. even brushing his lips across each of your fingers like a quiet worship.

he noticed the bandage on your finger and held your hand up to you. he tilted his head to the side like a puppy as he asked, "what's this, what happened?" his voice tinged with concern.

you chuckled, "i was chopping onions a few days ago and i nicked my finger. trust me, it was nothing serious. just keeping it covered to heal." you smiled at him.

he nodded and kissed your fingers, "you have to be careful, mon amor. i can't have you getting hurt when i'm not here." he kissed the bandage softly.

once your shower was done, you helped dry him off before you took him to the bed to get comfortable. you were both naked and curled up in bed together. you chose a movie to put on in the background while you became reacquainted with his body and him with yours.

you pressed your palm against his and noticed the difference in your hand sizes, "what was holland like, it's been so long since i've been there."

he chuckled, "same old, same old, mon amor. max had asked about you, he always asks about you. i told him to back off, he cold have any woman he wanted. but you are mine."

you giggled, "he's probably saying it to get under your skin." while you flew under the radar most of the time, at least with forces that could hurt you. but close friends of the family knew of you. like max verstappen, a close ally of charles. as a result the dutchman knew to mess with charles he simply had to bring you up.

it was like the time he mailed you a nijntje plush and charles was almost on the next flight to utrecht to kick his ass. in reality you had asked max to do that for you because you wouldn't be able to get it in monaco. (charles just forgot).

your lover's hands roamed your body and his cock twitched between his legs. he said softly, "i need you. i've needed you all week. you were all i could think of." his jaw tensed, "you drive me mad, mon amor. you're all i ever want."

you got him seated upright against the headboard and you straddled his waist. with a little help you sank down on his cock, but you didn't ride him. instead you warmed his cock as you straddled him. it slipped in with ease and the feeling made him shudder.

he wrapped those strong arms around you and held you. you got comfortable against his chest and kissed at the side of his neck. he melted into your touch, loving the feeling of you around him.

"i thought about you every moment i was away." he dipped his head towards your chest, he peppered kisses along the soft flesh, "i wondered if you were eating, sleeping, if you were going to classes." he sighed.

"i know, my dear." you said as you held him close to your chest and combed your fingers through his dark hair, "you were constantly texting me. i'm sorry that i couldn't text you during my lecture, you know all about that professor."

he sighed, "i could kill him."

you pulled away further and wagged your finger at him, "don't you care, leclerc. he is one of the best professors in the region." and he whined, you let him press himself back to your chest.

you let out a small noise when he mouth captured your left nipple. his hands explored your bare back, yearning for the closeness. his cock was heavy inside of you and you played with his hair.

the movie played on in the background, the light from the television cascaded you in a soft glow. you rolled your hips a little to give him a bit of friction, which made a shiver run up his spine.

"i love you." he said.

"i love you too." you yanked on his hair a little bit and he moaned with your nipple in your mouth. he played with your breasts, cupping them in his hands.

oh lord, you were perfect. those beautiful eyes looked to you and you smiled down at him. you leaned in and kissed his forehead. you rolled your hips a little more and let the feeling wash over both of you.

to just be so softly intimate felt nice, after time apart from one another. to feel close to your mafia boyfriend, felt good. he left a few marks across your soft breasts which only made you clench around his cock.

"you're my whole world, mon amor. to the ends of the earth, i love you."

"and i love you, charles." it wasn't the easiest thing being in love with someone so powerful. but the way he looked at you, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve for you. all the risks seemed to fade away, you loved him and he loved you.

you two continued to kiss once more, you knew that he was getting hot all over. his skin felt electric as you pressed your hands on his chest. you could feel his racing heartbeat as the two of you made out.

he looked up at you as you held his face, you rubbed the scar on his cheek, you could see the hearts in his eyes. "my world." he said.

"my universe."

he chuckled, "you always have to one-up me, huh?" he kissed your neck softly as felt the shudder of pleasure through his body. he knew he was close, he held onto you while the movie played and softly thrusted up into you. he couldn't handle it anymore. he kissed at your collarbones and groaned against your warm skin.

"i love you."

"and i love you more, forever. you are mine until the sun swallows the earth whole." he promised. he just wanted to be smothered by you, to hold onto you tightly. to love you with all of his heart.

he was in heaven, heaven was you. you were the angel that whatever god sent down to him. and he'd worship the ground you walked on until the ends of the earth. you were his soul, his beating heart.

not even the mafia lifestyle could pull the love he had for you out of him. you were the reason why he never got cold.

he shuddered as orgasm took over. then it ended with you on your back and him looming over you. those eyes of his transfixed you as he panted heavily. he pulled you in for a kiss, "i love feeling close to you." he said quietly. he looked down at you, his cock still buried in your at the hilt, the movie droned in the background. he kissed your jaw, "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

you smiled at him and draped your arms around him. you yearned for your own orgasm, you leaned up and kissed him on the lips, "i'd like to go back home."

"home? i thought i was your home." he pressed himself against you, his mind clearing up from the orgasm.

"i mean my childhood home." you played with his hair, "you've shown me your world, now i want to show you mine. it might not be as extravagant as monaco, but.... i want to make memories with you there."

he perked up at the thought. you wanted to show him your life. the life you had before you met. he broke out into a grin and wrapped his strong arms around you. he kissed at you face and said, "of course. i would love to meet your family, see your home. thank you! thank you!"

you smiled and kissed him once more. even with his cock still snugly inside of you. it was cute to see him light up. you've seen the headlines and his face in the paper. you've seen what he's capable of. but when he was with you, he was nothing more than a sweet puppy.

you kissed him once more before you shifted and asked, "now why don't you make me cum before we start to make plans, handsome?" you giggled as you pulled him in for a kiss once more.

those romance novels were silly, because if they were writing mafia bosses the way that your beloved charles was, the stories would be a lot less steamy and a lot more clingy. <3

[laura1633]

I uh went off the tangent.

Okay, YES

Mafia Boss Charles Leclerc has his rival's son (Not a rival, more like pesky little bug he needs out of his way.) and he is already not a fan of this kidnapping an innocent omega thing because he was raised better than this. He talks with action, he plays politics with people who get in his way, not an innocent omega who has to legally live with his father (In this universe, no alpha, no independence.)

Arthur convinces Charles that this is the least risky way to handle this situation with (Maybe the only reason Jos is a threat is because he got hands on some intel.) so Charles agrees on the condition that no one else but himself will see and house the omega.

Now, Victoria is an alpha and has been trying to free her brother from their father's "Ownership" forever. When Jos betrayed their clan by breaking their alliance (between the group led by Sophie and Jos) their entire clan had fallen apart and now Victoria had taken the reigns to bring them back to their glory while Sophie guides her.

Enemies of your enemies are your friends, eh?

So, Charles is contacted by Victoria and she explains him the power struggle going on in Netherlands. Charles decides to back Victoria as it gives him a local hand over Jos and, frankly, he cares more about Monaco and France and does not want to bother himself with the Netherlands issue. He agrees to kidnap Victoria's older brother and return him to Victoria in exchange for his intel being secured and returned to him.

Lorenzo, his brother and chief of extortions and arms kidnaps Max and sends him to a safe house from where Arthur collects him and takes him to Charles' house.

Let's reel back to our star Omega, Max.

He has been forced to live with his father since the schism and the only reason he is kept alive is because he is leverage over Sophie and Victoria. He is the only omega of his family and by virtue of society and it's expectations, he is deemed as the "Pride" of Verstappen-Kumpens. Whoever has him has the upper hand and until now that has been Jos.

He has lived with his father who has never treated him as anything more than a good-for-nothing omega. His father tried to make someone breed him as soon as he presented as "ready for pregnancy" so that he can gain leverage with a child and an omega (He was 17.) but was able to convince the alpha (Oscar) to leave him be and tell Jos that he is infertile. Got him beaten up and unconscious for a day but at least he was safe. Cue, Max being kidnapped. Best fucking thing that has happened to him. He is brought into an alpha's house and shit. Shit actually this might be worse. The alpha could breed him and then even his sister wouldn't be able to save him but the alpha is nice? He kept Max bound for the first two days and when Max showed nothing but compliance he was free to move around the house. The alpha sat with him, hand fed him (Max's injury during the kidnapping rendered him unable to do so. The man from Jos' clan who hit him was found and killed in front of the omega and look he may have grown up in blood but no one had ever killed for him so fuck you if you think it is weird to get turned on.) Max had never been tended and loved and cherished so much in his entire life and now he wants this. He wants Charles for himself. Best way? Get fucked mate! Mission Seduction is on. When Charles would bathe him (His injuries were never serious enough to get bathed by someone else but when a hot alpha asks, you don't say no.) he would buck up into Charles' warm hands and look at the Alpha who was clenching his jaws and trying to control himself. When Charles would hand feed him, he'd wrap his mouth around Charles' fingers and watch his resolve crumble under the omega's ministrations. Eventually, Charles gets frustrated with the sexual tension omega and confronts. Max tells him the truth. Not about wanting to get fucked senseless and bred by the pretty alpha-- the one about his father, the one where he has started falling in love with the alpha along the way. Charles gives in, allows himself to have the omega he desired and they make love but Charles refuses to bond because he had promised Max to Victoria. As much as Max loves his sister he wants to go away from Netherlands. He wants to live in Monaco with the Red Prince and he will. Max makes it his personal mission to break Charles. He'd dress up in pretty clothes, entice positions never tried before, completely submit to Charles. The fact that Charles still refused was frustrating but also made him fall a little more. However, it turns out. The trick was pretty simple. Pierre comes to meet Charles and Max throws himself at Pierre. Pierre is confused and unaware of the whole situation but doesn't say anything. The moment Pierre leaves, Charles is all over him, threatening to claim Max, asking whom he belongs to and Max can't say anyone but Charles. He folds the way Charles wants him to and pulls Charles' hands up to his soft, flat stomach and asks Charles to put a pup in him. Ah, well, Charles at least tried for a while. God knows what he will tell Victoria. He hopes she will bless them as Max says she will.

CW: Violence

Sharing this for everyone who is enjoying Alpha Mafia boss Charles and Omega Max 😍!

Charles trying to be caring and looking after Max by bathing him and then Max is just bucking up into his hands and getting all turned on! 😂🥵 I feel like Charles doesn't stand a chance once Max sets his sights on him.

[hourcat]

those pics where piarles are judging someone charles points out gives the energy of charles mafia boss au where he hates seeing bloodshed and fighting and pierre is his right hand man (and husband) who takes care of the more grotesque part of the business.

OHHH baby. baby baby baby. you can't just drop this fantastic idea on me and expect to get away with it!

you're so right. charles inherited the family business (vaguely italian hand gestures) but really doesn't want it. violence is abhorrent to him, he thinks the gangs that keep popping up around the city are bc of the leclerc's own group, he's never raised a hand to anyone before he'd been forced into this post.

of course, that doesn't mean he's not good at doing any of it when he has to. he's a natural, is the thing: an absolute natural, to the fear of just about every rival in the business. charles is as ruthless as they come and fiercely protective of his family and he will not hesitate to keep those he loves safe.

that's where pierre comes in. they started as friends (pierre's father owed charles' a debt, but they started up a friendship instead which is how pierre ended up under the leclerc name even if he's not a direct relative) and pierre was ALWAYS the hands. the muscle behind charles' firm voice. they're close bc they're family friends but like, they fall in love entirely accidentally bc pierre just wanted to take care of his best friend and not put him through the tragedy of life after everything he's already lost....

anyway im rambling. the point is, yes. charles puts the hits out and pierre goes and makes them, and when he comes home blood-splattered and successful he and charles spend all night fuckin about it.

[518062]

top 10 grim reaper writing moments

i've written a lot in 2 years, with 68 works published on ao3 (not all of them r good wkjdiej)

but sometimes i hit the mark, i think, and i like to look back on my work. so here's top 10 moments across all fandoms (mostly f1)

10. starting off strong with mafia au maxiel

Daniel squeals in happiness once he reunites with his car. He leans his head against the plush leather seat, wanting to stay like that forever, but he needs to drive, and forgets that a mafia boss is sitting beside him. When he presses the start button, the V10 engine comes alive, and its sound is like a lion’s roar, music to Daniel’s ears. Max stares at the wheel.

“Can you drive?” he asks. “I know cars arouse you. I’ve learned that much, but we have to go now.”

Daniel exhales and smoothly pulls out of the parking spot with one hand on the wheel. “They don’t arouse me.”

“Yes, they do. You’re having an orgasm at the sound of a V10.”

Daniel ignores the accusation and follows the navigation system. He notices a bunch of black cars surrounding him and looks at Max.

“What? I’m a very important person. They protect me.” he says defensively.

“Not me?” Daniel jokes.

“No.” Max says, fiddling with his phone. It’s a tense, awkward ride, but they make it through, and with some small talk, Daniel concludes Max is a FIFA addict—he’s opening packs as the Australian parks on the grand driveway.

“You can head inside. I’m gonna sit in Rafal for a bit.”

“You’re so fucking weird for naming the car.” Max tells him.

“And you’re weird for playing FIFA at your age.” Daniel retaliates.

“It’s perfectly normal, and FIFA is fun. Try it instead of sniffing fresh car leather.”

“I said you can go.” Daniel ignores his statement and gets comfortable in the seat, despite sitting for approximately two hours.

9. charles leclerc's silly boy crisis

After eighteen years, I am the Scuderia’s saviour, and I savour the delight and jubilance it brings me.

The alcohol tastes sweet like victory, like an overpriced, thick hot chocolate in Monaco. I can feel sweat crawl down my back, my fireproof sticking to it like glue. Everything that follows is a blur, a disarray of recollection; time is a never ending refinement, an endless cycle of gambling and comprehension.   

A month passes and I no longer feel sweet. I feel bare, like society has stripped me down and seen my darkest fears, because they’ve seen my highest high—what if they see my lowest low? Is there such a thing?

I sit in silence, sinking into scrutiny. Most of my days fly by like flocks of birds, and I can taste apprehension on my tongue, wet and overbearing.

And so I continuously ask; is this it? Is this how I go now? Do I resign?

For after the calm of the storm is a drizzle. A gentle but demanding rainfall, a reminder. I may be a miracle, but I may also be a mistake. Whenever I close my eyes, I see it—the taunting temptation of yielding.

I ignore my obligations and cry. For what is the purpose of going again? To break a meaningless record? I have served my purpose and now I serve agony, an unavoidable reality.

8. surprise brocedes proposal

“So what’s up? It must be impartial.” Lewis chuckles, nervous. Nico wonders if he is intruding—do they have more meetings? Is it time to analyse data?

Shit.

“I was thinking about what you said at our dinner.” He begins. “And I saw how empty you feel, how alone you are. And I—I know. I know it—I know you. Like you said, I know you more than anyone.” He closes his eyes briefly, making a quick prayer.

God, please don’t embarrass me.

“And I also know how happy I can make you feel. Therefore,” he pulls out a box, refusing to kneel. “I would be delighted if you agreed to marrying me.”

Like gloomy Monaco mornings, everyone stills, just how Nico Rosberg likes it. His cheeks are bright crimson, and his ears are ringing as he waits for an answer; Lewis’ face morphs with astonishment written all over. He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses—a loud thud echoes in the garage as Toto Wolff drops to the floor.

The stillness disappears like rain pouring on the soil. While engineers frantically rush to their boss’ side, Nico and Lewis stay put.

“Bu—“

“This is absurd! Why are you just standing there? Help him!” George Russell interrupts with his eerily blue eyes. Lewis looks at Nico with sorrow, but Nico shrugs, unfazed. He knew it was going to happen.

He did it! He shocked Toto!

7. max being tired of his job

“I’m sorry, sir, but we cannot do that.” This is usually where the customer stops—they analyse the situation and conclude that it’s fine. They’ll make do.

“Who’s we? Do you speak on behalf of the entire company? I’m Charles Leclerc,” he emphasises his name as if Max should know who he is. His attitude is horrible—at this stage, Max calls for the manager and lets her deal with it. But she’s conveniently absent.

“I do not know who you are, sir. I will say it again: we cannot do that.”

“You’re kidding me. See, I hate to be the one, but you hold no value to anyone. I need someone important,” he emphasises the T, “like your manager.”

This is the stage where Max’s cordiality slips away; fuck the customer service bullshit. When someone becomes malicious towards him, he bites back. He couldn’t care less about Charles Leclerc—the reality check was going to be a harsh slap.

“Listen, Charles, the fucking king of who cares—after checking your flight, I’ve realised it is full. This means two things. Seat change is not allowed as it's not mentioned in the terms and conditions. Even if it were, we would have to ask a first-class passenger, and who’s saying they would exchange their nice seat for an economy seat?”

6. neybappe angst insert crying emoji

They went through the ten steps of friendship at unbelievable speeds. After a while, Neymar saw Kylian as more than a friend. There was an underlying truth they both ignored; that they were in love, and with their circumstances, there was nothing they could do except act. Neymar realised, on a frosty night while watching the Eiffel tower, that his aspirations weren’t football related at all—they were emotions, sunken in his heart and tattoos. He wanted love. He wanted more than love. The things he sought after: happiness, tranquillity, guidance; it all came back to his desire for a person. Someone he could spend the rest of his life with—someone who loved his flaws and imperfections, his lifestyle and his soul. On that night, the number seven on his jersey spoke volumes; he was in love with Kylian, and he was not pretending—no—he wanted to show Kylian his version of love. Hyperbolic and fluctuating, fun and heartfelt, devastatingly wrong and destined simultaneously. On that night, he didn’t feel hatred for France anymore. He didn’t despise the weather, or the people, or the president—for France was where his home was, where his lover grew and became who he was, where he grew as a person, where he reunited with a brother and abandoned another.

5. shadow being lovestruck

He had lived an entirely different life where everything was upside down—Maria wasn’t even a thought. The worst aspect of it all was that Sonic had seen everything. That opulent yet skewed reality contained all of Shadow’s contemplations. It made Gerald a loving father, which was something Shadow had yearned for since he saw the light of kindness. His days were occupied with mundane, domestic tasks—a reality Shadow dreamt of often during missions. He liked the idea of not being involved in battles and missions and instead wearing dresses, living a simple life and feeling regal.

It also brought Sonic and him together, like a guardian angel, and now Sonic knew. Sonic knew about Shadow’s immensely hard love for him. He discovered that Shadow’s blinds remained closed because Shadow would stay up all night, drawing Sonic’s eyes with the blinding stars. Sonic saw how nervous Shadow became around him, how his presence affected him greatly.

4. painter max

I am an artist. I like brushes. I like acrylic paint. I sketch with vigour and I paint with woe.

I have a lover. He has murky green eyes and thick lashes. His jawline cuts my skin and his hair transports me to the cruise ships.

My lover likes to watch me paint. He sits by the window; it rains and shines, but his eyes never move away from the canvas. My strokes coincide with his heartbeats. Every bristle that slides across the hardened cotton equalises the breaths he takes.

Seasons pass, and my lover ceases to budge. The canvases just keep coming, like tears at a funeral. My lover says it’s a blessing that my hands move like waltzers and my fingers rest on my brushes like a still baby. I know he knows; I sketch with vigour and I paint with woe.

3. charles panicking

And so he cries, a shattered visage, a broken window, a popped bubble, iridescence and shine diminishing into nothing. He crosses his legs and looks at his hands, freaking out—he has done unimaginable things. He has driven to victory, fought many drunk men, wiped countless tears, devastated the world. His tears drop onto his pale, worn hands—calloused and worn out by racing, living, breathing, being. His hands stare back at him like he is a monster; how can he treat them like this? How can he be so foul? And how can he get the tears to stop? They are surging like a burst pipe, wetting his cheeks and lips. He cannot even wipe his face—his hands do not deserve it. No—he does not deserve these graceful hands. God has given him the opportunity to bring light to the world, and he has let Him down. God should take his hands away!

2. charles being fed up

“Va te faire foutre!” Fuck that and fuck you! Charles responds, ignoring Andrea’s questions. “Look at the outside, Andrea. Look at the paddock and the teams. Anyone with a functioning brain can see that they are laughing at us. They think we’re a circus—merde, we are a circus! You can’t fucking predict the weather? Who are you, Williams? You’re Scuderia Ferrari,” He spits the name like it is a malicious insult, a death threat, a plague, a demon that must be feared. “You,” he points at Andrea’s chest, eyebrows furrowed and eyes vacant of all emotion, “are Scuderia Ferrari. You are the heart of this sport. You own this sport, its fans, its government, fuck—you own me. You own this paddock. The tarmac we race on is yours. The rule book we follow is yours; it is a fucking bible, and we worship it, we worship you, we bend on both knees and beg for mercy, we kiss the Italian flag—” He stops, searching for breath.

“We give our everything, Andrea. And what do we look like? A shit show. A joke. Connerie...”

1. paris is burning but as a motif

“If money wasn’t so important in the world today...to survive. I guess I wouldn’t want anything but what I have now. But since money does...I hope that the way I look puts money in my pocket.” says Octavia St. Laurent. Neymar listens to their wisdom.

“I’ve got to go now.” He states, glancing at the clock on his wall resembling a cat. He wants to be early (early is late - Otis).

“I want everybody to look at me and say ‘There goes Octavia’...”

“Look after the place. And watch the movie. You might learn something.”

“I don’t care about gay people!” Muhammed exclaims.

“It’s way more than that.” Neymar says before locking his friend in.

I didnt rank these by which is the most effective.

i ranked them by how i felt when writing, and how they make me feel now. whether they make me feel proud of this presence i have created through writing, whether i have done rpf justice. i think everyone should do this

anyways thats all. not like itll be seen