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n0vazsq · 2 months ago

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Forever mine? Forever yours | CL16 x Reader

pairing . . . charles leclerc x gf!reader

summary . . . When you and Charles have a fight, you want nothing more than his forgiveness

request . . . no!

word count . . . 884

warnings . . . just a bit of angst that turns into fluff!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . was listenting to like love // break up songs while writing this and legit wanted to cry like kms

. . . The streets of Monaco were unusually quiet that night, the hum of distant cars replaced by the echo of footsteps against cobblestone. The city lights cast long shadows, stretching like ghosts between the narrow alleys.

Charles walked ahead of you, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, shoulders tense. The silence between you was heavy, filled with the reminders of words you hadn’t meant to say, things you both couldn’t take back.

The fight had started small, like it always did. You had only asked about the upcoming race, about his late nights at the simulator, about why he was pushing so hard. It had spiraled from there. Frustration simmering just beneath the surface, boiling over into harsh words and defensive silence.

Now, you followed a few steps behind, heart heavy, each breath tight in your chest. You wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between you, but the distance felt overwhelming. Charles had always been intense, carrying the weight of expectations like a second skin. But tonight, he seemed…fragile, like a wire stretched too thin.

He stopped suddenly by the marina, the dark water stretching endlessly before you. The wind carried the scent of salt, cool against your skin. He didn’t turn around, didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, staring out at the horizon, hands clenched at his sides.

"You think I don’t care enough?" His voice was quiet, but the tone is his voice was unmistakable.

Your eyes stung. "Charles, no. That’s not what I meant." You took a step closer, but the space between you felt like a chasm. "I worry. You push yourself so hard, and I-"

He turned then, eyes meeting yours, frustration and something deeper swirling in their depths. "Do you know what it’s like?" His voice cracked, raw and tense. "To carry all of this? The pressure, the expectations…? Every single day, everyone looking at me, waiting for me to either win or fail." He shook his head. "And then I come home, and it feels like I’m failing here too."

The words hit you like a stab to the heart, and they probably were a stab to the heart. "Charles…" Your voice was barely a whisper. "I didn’t mean to add to it. I just… I see you carrying all of this, and it scares me. I don’t want you to break."

He looked away, jaw tight. "I’m already breaking." The statement was soft, almost lost to the wind. "I wake up thinking about the next race. I go to sleep replaying every mistake I made. And I know people are waiting for me to slip, to prove that I’m not good enough." His eyes found yours again, and there was a vulnerability there that made your heart ache."I’m afraid too. Afraid of letting everyone down. Afraid of losing… you. All because of my stupid mistakes."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You closed the distance between you, reaching for his hand. He let you, fingers cold but steady. "You’re never losing me,” you said, voice firm despite the emotion threatening to choke you. "I’m here. I’ll always be here."

He looked down, chuckling emotionlessly, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Sometimes, it feels like I can’t breathe. Like I’m drowning under it all."

You squeezed his hand, stepping closer until your chest touched his. "You don’t have to carry it alone. I know I can’t take the weight off your shoulders, but I can stand beside you. I can remind you that you’re more than the races, more than the wins or losses."

He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. When he opened them again, the anger had softened, replaced by something raw and unspoken. "I’m sorry. I know I shut you out sometimes. It’s not fair to you."

You shook your head. "You don’t have to apologize for being human. I just… I want you to let me in. Let me help."

He reached up, cupping your face in his hands. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the tension that had been there moments ago. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered, voice barely audible.

You smiled, tears slipping down your cheeks. "You deserve everything, Charles, my angel. And I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to."

He leaned his forehead against yours, the distance between you finally gone. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The world around you faded away; the distant hum of the city, the gentle lapping of the waves. There was only this. Only him. Only Charles.

"Forever mine?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your heart swelling. "Forever yours."

He held you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, his grip tight, almost desperate. The walls he had built around himself were still there, but for now, they had cracks, just enough to let you in.

As the wind carried the scent of salt and the promise of better days, you knew that this was how it would be. There would be fights, and fears, and moments where everything felt like it was falling apart. But there would also be this: quiet moments in the dark, where love felt like the strongest thing in the world.

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bunny-norris · 6 months ago

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MONACO

LN4 x Reader

Summary: Y/N suffers a horrid date, luckily a knight in shining armour seems to be there to save the day.

Warnings: dickhead man, inappropriate touching (not detailed)

Can be made into a part two if requested - not proofread

Monaco glittered under the afternoon sun, a perfect day for lunch by the marina. Y/N smoothed out her dress and sighed, looking over at her date, Adam. She had hoped for a pleasant afternoon, but he had been insufferably rude from the start.

Y/N had been hesitant to go on this date from the very beginning. She was working in Monaco at the time, and she hadn’t been there for long. Even though she was dating, she had met someone who seemed to be interested in her, and so she went for it. But it was not going in the way she wanted.

Unwanted touches on the leg, which Y/N quickly pushed away, caused her chair to move a little bit away from him. Remarks on her looks included the following: he didn't think highly of the things she was wearing, she wasn't grinning enough for him, and her hair could have been styled a little more well. Y/N was raised to be a strong woman who ignored the opinions of others and always looked out for herself, so she knew she should speak out, but this was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was emotionally draining, and all Y/N wanted to do was run out of there and go home. She had sat there nicely, not wanting to cause a scene, wanting to get it over with.

"Excuse me," Y/N said softly, standing up to leave, clearly at her breaking point. Adam grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her back into her seat. "Don't just walk out on me," he snapped.

Y/N flinched, the grip Adam had on her arm hardening as he glared at her, clearly realizing that she was no longer wanting his company. Y/N looked around, seeing that people were beginning to stare. “Please stop, I don’t think this is going to work out, so I’m just going to go home now. Thank you for asking me on a date, but you’re not for me.” Y/N whispered, trying to jerk her arm out of his grasp.

“Excuse me,” a voice said behind Y/N. “I think the lady asked you to let her go, so I’d appreciate it if you did so.”

Adam just rolled his eyes at the man. The man was young, Y/N guessed around 23 or 24 years old, well-dressed in a white buttoned-down shirt and smart pants. He was nice-looking, and he smiled sweetly at Y/N when she turned her head to see who was talking. She smiled back, her heart rate slightly speeding up at the sight of him.

“What a waste of time,” Adam muttered, rolling his eyes and letting go of Y/N’s arm. Pushing past her, Adam stormed out, leaving Y/N looking at the man who seemed to save her. “Thank you for that,” she said, smiling slightly and looking down, playing with her nails.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, his voice gentle. "That looked pretty intense."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Y/N replied, though her arm still throbbed slightly. "I’m just going to go home, I’m sorry for interrupting your lunch," she said, looking slightly behind the man to the table that he had come from, a round table full of people who Y/N believed to be his friends, all chatting away to one another, every so often looking in the man’s direction.

"Let me drive you home, it’ll be quicker, maybe get some ice on your arm," he offered, concern etched on his face.

"You don't have to. I'll be fine, I’m really sorry for interrupting your lunch, but I really appreciate what you did, you seem like a good man," she insisted, though part of her felt grateful for his offer. She turned, beginning to walk away, towards the restaurant door.

“Miss, excuse me! Miss!” the man shouted after her. Y/N turned around to face him. “Look, I know you’ve just been through a really shitty date, and the last thing you wanna do is talk to a man since I know we as a species probably seem really shit right now. But I promise, I’ll drop you off home safely and leave you be. I think you’re really pretty, and you definitely didn’t deserve to be treated like that, so I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.” The man rambled, almost out of breath, and Y/N just slightly giggled, not quite sure what to make of the man, but he seemed sweet.

“I’m still walking home,” she said, as the man looked slightly defeated. “But, if you want to walk with me, you’re welcome to join me.” She smiled and began walking, with the man quickly catching up to walk with her.

They walked together through the narrow streets of Monaco, the city bustling with life around them. Y/N glanced at her unexpected knight in shining armor. "Thank you again," she said. "I don't even know your name."

He chuckled, a bit surprised. "I'm Lando. Lando Norris."

She tilted her head, not recognizing the name. "Nice to meet you, Lando. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. So, what brings you to Monaco? Other than going on terrible dates."

"I'm here for work," she explained. "I’ve been here for about a week, but I go home in a few days, so I thought, why not just ruin it by talking to shitty men.”

Lando faked a shocked face and wounded heart. “I do hope I am not in that category.”

Y/N laughed at his expression. “I guess I’ll have to decide by the time you walk me to my door. I’d rate it currently a 5 out of 10.”

“I guess I’ll have to try harder then,” Lando laughed.

As they continued to walk, they chatted about everything and nothing. Lando shared stories about his travels and racing, though he didn't mention the specifics of his career, and Y/N talked about her work and the quaint village she called home.

"I have to admit," Y/N said after a while, "Monaco is beautiful, but it can be a bit overwhelming."

"I can imagine," Lando replied. "It's a different world here. But it does have its charm."

"It does," she agreed. "Especially today."

They reached her hotel much too quickly for Y/N's liking. She turned to face Lando, feeling an unexpected pang of sadness at the thought of their walk ending. "Thank you for walking me back," she said sincerely. "And for standing up for me. It means a lot."

"Anytime," Lando replied, his eyes meeting hers. There was a spark there, an unspoken connection that neither wanted to break just yet.

Impulsively, Y/N stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Lando's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered against his skin before pulling back.

Lando blinked in surprise, his hand touching the spot where her lips had been. "You're welcome," he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse.

Y/N smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement. "Maybe we'll see each other again before I leave?"

"I'd like that," Lando replied, his eyes shining with hope.

With a final wave, she disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lando standing on the steps, a smile playing on his lips. There was something about Y/N that he couldn't quite forget. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the last time their paths would cross.

#formula 1 #lando norris imagine #lando norris #max verstappen #formula one #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine

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wethotcrazy · 2 months ago

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Tsunoda or Verstappen x princess reader where the media catches them?

Max Verstappen’s Mystery Girlfriend Revealed—She’s a Princess!

pairing: Max Verstappen x Princess! Reader

word count: 951

a little short fic im a little unsure of this but i think its cute. i have never written for max so i hope you like it.

The hum of engines filled the air as the Belgium Grand Prix roared to life, the energy palpable even beyond the track. It was in this electric atmosphere that Max Verstappen, Red Bull’s ace driver and reigning Formula 1 champion, first crossed paths with Princess Y/N of a small but wealthy European kingdom. She wasn’t there for pomp or ceremony, but for her unshakable love of motorsports. Her fascination with engineering had brought her into the paddock, under the guise of a “guest of honor,” though she was far more interested in torque ratios than champagne receptions.

Max had noticed her standing near the Red Bull garage, her eyes sparkling as she watched the pit crew fine-tune his RB19. She wasn’t like the other VIPs who came to the paddock for photo ops. She asked questions—intelligent ones—about the aerodynamics of the car and how it adapted to the tricky Spa-Francorchamps circuit. When she turned to him and asked, “How does it feel to handle Eau Rouge at full throttle?” Max couldn’t help but grin.

“Pretty thrilling,” he replied, his Dutch accent softening his words. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

She blushed but didn’t shy away. “I might’ve simulated it once or twice,” she admitted, and Max’s laughter was genuine.

From that moment on, they were inseparable that weekend. Between practice sessions and qualifying, Max found himself looking for Y/N in the crowd, her royal guards standing at a respectful distance while she chatted animatedly with engineers. She was intelligent, quick-witted, and refreshingly down-to-earth for someone who could probably claim ownership of a castle or two.

By the end of the weekend, they had exchanged numbers. What started as lighthearted banter and shared interests evolved into long, late-night calls discussing everything from racing to the struggles of living under the public eye. Max learned that Y/N had been fascinated by motorsports since she was a child, but her royal duties had always kept her at arm’s length from the world she loved. Y/N, in turn, found Max’s straightforwardness and his dedication to his craft intoxicating.

From then on, Max and Y/N were inseparable. Between races and royal engagements, they carved out moments just for themselves. Sometimes it was a late-night call after a long day, Max’s voice soothing as he recounted the chaos of the paddock. Other times, it was quiet afternoons strolling through parks in cities they barely knew, their laughter blending into the rustle of leaves.

Max was careful not to share too much in public, but he couldn’t entirely hide his happiness. In interviews, he would casually mention his “girlfriend” with a sly smile, never elaborating but always leaving fans buzzing. Clips of him dropping hints circulated endlessly on social media, fueling theories and debates about who the mysterious woman could be.

Their secret didn’t last forever.

It happened one sunny afternoon in Monaco, where Max and Y/N were enjoying a rare day off together. A candid photo surfaced online of them sitting on the edge of the marina, her hand resting lightly on his knee as they watched the boats sway in the harbor.

The internet exploded. “Max Verstappen’s Mystery Girlfriend Revealed—She’s a Princess!” read one headline. Others followed, speculating wildly about their relationship.

For a moment, the world seemed to close in. Reporters hounded them both, and social media was flooded with opinions—some supportive, others less so.

Max, however, remained unfazed. During the next press conference, when asked about the rumors, he simply shrugged. “We’re happy,” he said, his voice steady. “That’s all that matters to me.”Y/N faced her own challenges. Her advisors worried about the implications of such a public relationship, but she met their concerns with quiet resolve. “Max is kind, driven, and genuine,” she told them firmly. “He makes me happy. This is not up for discussion.”

Despite the noise, they didn’t let the spotlight dim their connection. Instead, it seemed to strengthen their bond. Y/N became a quiet force in Max’s corner, offering him calm reassurance during stressful race weekends. Max, in turn, encouraged Y/N to pursue her passion for engineering, helping her connect with teams and experts in the field. Their love only grew stronger in the face of scrutiny. Between the whirlwind of races and royal duties, they found comfort in each other. Y/N often joined Max in the paddock, where she quickly became a beloved presence. Mechanics respected her keen interest in their work, while Max’s team appreciated the grounding influence she brought to his often-hectic life.

On their quieter days, they escaped the chaos entirely. Max taught her how to kart, laughing as she spun out on the first few laps but cheering her on when she finally nailed a clean run. Y/N, in turn, introduced him to her world—showing him the intricacies of royal life and sneaking him into her palace’s private library, where they would talk for hours.

At the Austrian Grand Prix, Max took her on a private tour of the Red Bull factory. Watching her excitement as she examined the intricate details of the car made his heart swell. “You’re amazing,” he told her, his voice filled with awe.

Though their story seemed unlikely to outsiders, it made perfect sense to them. They shared a love for pushing limits, for the thrill of speed and the beauty of innovation. Most importantly, they found in each other a kindred spirit—someone who understood the weight of expectation but refused to let it define them.

And so, they continued forward, hand in hand, their hearts racing not just for the thrill of the track or the demands of the crown, but for each other.

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cupcakeeees · 27 days ago

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“She exists now only in my memory..”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a glimpse into an F1 racer’s guarded heart.

word count: 1k

Dear Diary,

Year 1: The Beginning

The first time I met her, it was late summer in Monaco. I was standing by the marina, pretending not to be as lost as I felt. The sun was setting behind the yachts, and the air smelled like salt and fresh starts.

That’s when I saw her. She wasn’t like anyone else. She had this way of existing - like the world bent toward her without her even realizing it.

She’d dropped her book while passing and I’d instinctively bent down to grab it.

Our hands brushed for a split second.

“Thanks,” she’d said, her voice soft but certain. I couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so I just blurted out, “What’s the book?”

That question turned into an hour-long conversation, sitting on the edge of the dock, our legs dangling over the water. She teased me for not having read her favorite author; I challenged her to name three F1 drivers.

“Bet you can’t even name me,” I’d joked.

She’d tilted her head, her smile mischievous. “I know who you are, Norris!”

Year 3: A Year Apart

I didn’t see her again for over a year.

Monaco wasn’t home anymore - it was just a place I passed through. Racing had taken me everywhere but where I wanted to be.

When I spotted her at a party, it felt like déjà vu. She stood across the room, glass in hand, laughing at some joke I hadn’t told.

I thought about walking up to her right away, but something held me back.

She looked .. different.

Like the pieces of her had rearranged in ways I didn’t recognize.

Finally, she noticed me. Her smile was the same, but her hug felt hesitant, like she wasn’t sure where I fit in her life anymore.

“You’ve been busy,” she’d said, her tone light but her eyes heavy.

“Yeah,” I replied, though I didn’t know if she meant the races or the distance I’d put between us.

We exchanged numbers again, promising to “catch up soon.” But soon turned into months, then silence.

Year 5: Everything and Nothing

That summer in London was everything I’d ever wanted - and nothing like I thought it would be.

We’d spent weeks wrapped in each other’s lives, her laughter filling the quiet moments I didn’t know I’d needed. She made me feel human again.

One night, as we sat on her balcony, a bottle of wine between us she leaned her head on my shoulder.

“What’s next for you?” she asked.

“Another race,” I said with a shrug. “And after that, another one.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, just traced the rim of her glass with her finger. Finally, she asked, “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to stop?”

“Stop?” I repeated, as if the word itself didn’t make sense. “I don’t know how to.”

She sighed, pulling away slightly. “I know.”

That was the beginning of the end. By August, she was packing up her life, and I was leaving for yet another circuit.

She didn’t ask me to stay, and I didn’t ask her to come with me.

I think we both knew how it would go.

Year 8: The Last Goodbye

It was an accident- running into her in Amsterdam. I was at a café, waiting for my coffee, when I heard her voice behind me. I knew it was her before I even turned around.

She looked radiant, her happiness lighting up the room in a way that made my chest ache.

“Lando!” she exclaimed, her surprise genuine. “It’s been ages.”

I laughed nervously, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. You look good.”

“So do you.”

We talked for a while - small talk that felt too big and too small all at once. She mentioned her partner casually, as if it wouldn’t crush me to hear it.

“He’s great,” she said, her smile soft. “He makes me really happy.”

“That’s good,” I replied, though my voice cracked slightly.

When she stood to leave, she hesitated, her hand brushing my arm. “See you around, Lando.”

“Yeah, you too!”

And then she was gone, walking out into the rainy street, leaving me staring after her like I’d lost her all over again.

The Present:

Years later, I found out she was gone. A friend told me, so casually it felt cruel. An accident, they said.

It didn’t feel real - it still doesn’t.

Sometimes I think about the little things that linger: the messages I can’t delete, the book she left on my shelf in Monaco, the songs she used to hum when she thought no one was listening.

Sometimes, I dream about her.

In the dreams, she’s always laughing but always walking away from me.

I wake up reaching for something I’ll never hold again.

She’s gone. But she lives now, only in my memory.

So yes, dear diary.. I often go and sit by the marina in Monaco, the same spot where we first met.

The sunset dips below the horizon, and for a moment, I swear I can hear her laugh again.

#lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris #f1 x you #formula one imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1

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sonicbrutalism · 6 days ago

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Nils and Caro at the ex-hostel in Leipzig (2023) by Marina Mónaco.

Nils Keppel & Carolina Ida.

#marina monaco #neue neue deutsche welle #nils keppel #caroline ida #i saw you in a song #black and white #analog photography #post punk #alternative couple

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luegootravez · 2 months ago

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Lisa Yakovina by © Marina Mónaco

#Marina Mónaco #Marina Monaco #Lisa Yakovina

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fairene · 29 days ago

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Could you maybe do a Princess of Monaco with cl16 and they just hard launch their relationship

love your writing

whispers of the crown / cl16 x fem!reader

warnings ⋯ social pressures, fluff, established relationship.

a/n ⋯ thought this ask was cute, thank you for sending it in! got this done in like an hour haha. hope you guys enjoy something a bit different x.

wc ⋯ 3.2k (not proofread.)

the annual monaco royal gala was a spectacle like no other—a glittering event where power and prestige mingled under the light of a thousand chandeliers. you stood at the center of it all, the princess of monaco, a title that carried the weight of centuries yet somehow felt like a cage at times.

your gown clung to you like a second skin, shimmering silk that made you feel both exposed and invincible. the whispers in the room followed your every step—admiration, envy, and just a hint of speculation. you were used to it, the silent judgment that came with your station, but tonight, something felt different.

then you saw him.

charles.

he wasn’t just another face in the crowd, not to you. his presence burned like a quiet fire, standing apart from the gilded masses. the soft tug of a smile played at the corners of his mouth when your eyes met, a secret shared between the two of you.

and just like that, the room felt smaller.

the room seemed to erupt the moment your gaze lingered on him a second too long. the whispers became a low roar, a cascade of murmurs swelling into something palpable. heads turned in unison, like waves pulled by an unseen tide.

“is that—?”

“are they—?”

questions hung in the air, unanswered but charged with electricity. the paparazzi, ever-persistent even in the gilded confines of the gala, sprang into action. camera flashes erupted like lightning, capturing every stolen glance, every subtle shift in your expression.

you felt the weight of their eyes, but it wasn’t the suffocating burden you’d expected. instead, it was exhilarating, like standing on the edge of a precipice and daring gravity to pull you in.

charles didn’t hesitate. in three deliberate strides, he was beside you, his presence anchoring you amidst the storm of attention. he offered his arm—casual, confident, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“shall we?” his voice was low, meant only for you, but the curve of his lips carried the slightest hint of mischief.

you took his arm without a second thought, your hand resting lightly on his. the silk of his sleeve was cool beneath your fingers, but the warmth of his touch was undeniable.

the crowd surged closer, questions shouted over the din of clicking cameras. you heard none of it. all you could focus on was the way charles guided you through the chaos, his composure steady, his movements protective without being overbearing.

“they’re going to have a field day with this,” you murmured, your lips barely moving.

“let them,” he said, his grin widening as he glanced down at you. “they’ll only see what we want them to.”

you couldn’t help but smile at that, a quiet thrill coursing through you. this was no accident. tonight was yours—yours and his. a declaration, bold and unapologetic, played out on the grandest stage imaginable.

as you walked side by side, the flashes of light and the cacophony of voices faded into the background. for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t just the princess of monaco. you were you. and you were with him.

together, you faced the world. and for once, the world didn’t feel so daunting.

the first time you met charles, it was almost laughably mundane. nothing like the grandeur of tonight, no chandeliers or cameras, just the quiet lull of waves lapping against the docks at the monaco marina. you’d slipped away from another interminable royal obligation, drawn to the water like it could somehow unmoor you from the expectations tethered to your title.

he’d been there, leaning casually against the side of a sleek yacht, his phone in hand but his attention elsewhere. you didn’t recognize him immediately—just a man with sun-kissed skin, tousled hair, and an air of ease that felt foreign to your world.

“long night?” he’d asked when your paths crossed, his voice warm and tinged with curiosity.

you’d laughed, a short, quiet thing that sounded almost foreign to your own ears. “something like that.”

he didn’t pry, didn’t ask who you were or why you were wandering the marina in an evening gown. instead, he introduced himself with a smile that was somehow both charming and disarming.

“charles,” he said, extending a hand. “you?”

you hesitated. you were so used to the weight of your name, the reactions it elicited. but with him, it didn’t feel like a weapon. “just call me…” you paused, then offered a playful smile. “whatever you want.”

that was the start of it—what you’d both come to call the in-between.

weeks turned into months of stolen moments: secret coffee dates at quiet cafés, long drives along the coast where no one would recognize you, late-night phone calls filled with quiet laughter and unspoken truths. he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years, like you were more than just a title or a symbol.

but it wasn’t easy. not for him, balancing the demands of formula 1 with the secrecy of your relationship. not for you, living under the constant scrutiny of a nation that saw you as theirs. every decision you made felt weighted, every risk magnified.

“what happens if they find out?” you’d asked him one night, your voice barely above a whisper.

he’d cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady. “then they’ll know i love you. and that’s not something i’ll ever apologize for.”

you’d wanted to believe him, wanted to let his certainty wash away your doubts. but the fear lingered, the knowledge that one wrong move could unravel everything.

and yet, here you were. no more hiding, no more secrets. tonight wasn’t about fear. it was about the truth. your truth. his truth. your truth together.

the weight of your position had always been a constant in your life. every smile, every gesture, every carefully chosen word—measured, analyzed, and judged. being a princess wasn’t just about tradition; it was about maintaining a legacy, a role you hadn’t chosen but one you were expected to embrace. falling in love with someone like charles, a man so rooted in his own world of adrenaline and fame, only added to the complexity.

you often found yourself questioning the wisdom of it all. what if the people didn’t approve? what if your family didn’t understand? every time you stepped into the public eye, the fear of exposure loomed like a shadow, a reminder of how fragile this thing between you was.

charles had his own burdens. formula 1 wasn’t just a career—it was his life, his identity. every second of his day was accounted for, his performance scrutinized by millions. yet, somehow, he always found time for you.

but it wasn’t without cost. you’d seen it in the exhaustion he tried to hide, in the way his brow furrowed when his phone buzzed with another notification from his team.

“am i making this harder for you?” you’d asked once, after a particularly grueling weekend where he’d flown halfway across the world just to spend a single evening with you.

he’d looked at you like you’d said something absurd, his expression softening in a way that made your chest ache. “you make everything worth it,” he’d said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “but it’s not easy. none of this is easy.”

there were nights when the pressure seemed insurmountable, when the weight of his schedule and your obligations felt like too much to bear. you’d fight over the smallest things—not because you wanted to, but because the stress had nowhere else to go.

“you don’t get it,” you’d snapped during one particularly tense moment. “if this goes wrong, i don’t just lose you. i lose everything.”

his silence had been deafening, his jaw tight as he processed your words. but then he’d stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours.

“and what about me?” his voice was low, almost breaking. “i’ve put everything on the line for you. my time, my focus—everything i have to give. but it’s not enough unless we’re in this together.”

it was moments like those that grounded you, his raw honesty cutting through the haze of fear and doubt. he wasn’t just asking for your trust; he was offering his, unconditionally.

and maybe that’s why you’d finally decided to stop hiding. because as terrifying as the risks were, the thought of losing him—of never fully claiming this love—was even worse.

the crowd was a sea of opulence—gowns that swept the marble floors, tuxedos tailored within an inch of perfection. the gala was already alive with chatter and clinking glasses, the air thick with expectation. but when the grand doors opened and you stepped inside, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

your gown was breathtaking, a masterpiece of shimmering gold that clung to your figure like molten metal, cascading into a delicate train that followed your every step. the intricate embroidery glittered under the light, refracting like the sun catching the mediterranean waves.

and then there was charles. his sharp tuxedo was classic black, the lines crisp and clean, but it was his presence that stole the room. there was something effortless about the way he carried himself, like he belonged both on a podium and in the midst of royalty.

his hand was in yours, warm and steady, grounding you even as the room erupted.

gasps rippled through the crowd, whispers following like a tide.

“charles leclerc?”

“are they… together?”

the paparazzi didn’t hesitate. camera flashes exploded like fireworks, illuminating the space in bursts of light. it should’ve felt overwhelming, but instead, it felt like the moment you’d been holding your breath for.

charles’s hand slipped to the small of your back, a subtle but unmistakable gesture of protection and possession. his touch was light yet firm, his thumb brushing against the silk of your gown in a way that made your pulse quicken.

you glanced up at him, catching the faint curve of his lips—a smile meant only for you.

and then you smiled too, soft but resolute, your expression speaking volumes. it was a smile that said, yes, this is real. yes, i’m all in.

the crowd’s reaction was a symphony of shock and intrigue, the room buzzing with the unspoken acknowledgment that something monumental had just happened.

you let charles guide you further into the room, his confidence bolstering your own. every step you took together felt like a statement, a declaration that neither of you was willing to hide anymore.

you were tired of secrets, tired of stolen moments in the shadows. tonight, under the dazzling light of chandeliers and camera flashes, you were finally stepping into the light.

the music shifted, a slow, sultry melody filling the grand ballroom. the lights dimmed slightly, casting a golden glow over the floor as couples began to sway in time with the rhythm.

you felt charles’s hand at your back tighten gently, a silent invitation.

“dance with me,” he murmured, his voice low and close to your ear.

you hesitated for only a second, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing down on you. but when you looked up at him, his gaze was steady, a quiet reassurance that melted away your doubt.

“always,” you said softly.

he led you to the center of the floor, the crowd parting like the sea around you. the moment you stepped into his arms, the world seemed to narrow, the noise and chaos dimming until it was just the two of you.

his hand found yours, his fingers interlocking with yours in a way that felt natural, inevitable. his other hand rested against the small of your back, drawing you closer, his touch firm but reverent.

you moved together, swaying in perfect sync, his every step guiding yours. there was an ease to it, a connection that made it feel like you’d been dancing together for years.

the camera flashes didn’t stop, their bright bursts punctuating the intimate moment. you knew the photos would be everywhere by morning, headlines speculating, dissecting, scrutinizing. but for once, you didn’t care.

charles’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression soft yet intense. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

you smiled, the kind of smile that came from somewhere deep, somewhere untouchable. “i’m better than okay.”

his lips curved in response, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you right there, in front of everyone. instead, he twirled you gently, spinning you out before pulling you back into his arms, closer than before.

your heart raced as you rested your head against his shoulder, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck. his breath was warm against your temple, his hold on you unshakable.

around you, the flashes continued, the room abuzz with murmurs and whispers. but inside his embrace, it was quiet, the rest of the world slipping away.

“let them look,” he said, his voice a low rumble that only you could hear. “this is ours, not theirs.”

and in that moment, you believed him. because while the cameras captured the spectacle, the love between you wasn’t for show. it was real, raw, and entirely yours.

the next morning, the world woke up to you.

“princess of monaco and formula 1 star: a royal romance revealed!”“charles leclerc steals the show—and the princess’s heart!”“monaco’s golden couple: love in the spotlight.”

tabloid covers were plastered with photos of the two of you on the dance floor, his hand at your back, your gaze locked on his. social media buzzed incessantly—fans, critics, and curious onlookers dissecting every detail. your dress was trending, his smirk immortalized in a thousand tweets, and the hashtag #royalromance skyrocketed to the top of the charts.

the reactions were as varied as the people giving them.

your family was the first storm to weather. your father had called before sunrise, his tone sharp but laced with something you couldn’t quite place—concern, perhaps.

“you should have warned us,” he said, the weight of his words heavy.

“would it have changed anything?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer.

silence stretched across the line before he sighed, a long, drawn-out exhale. “he seems… respectful. we’ll discuss this further.”

charles’s world wasn’t spared either. his fans erupted in equal parts delight and heartbreak. some celebrated his happiness, their social media profiles flooded with edits of the two of you. others were less kind, their jealousy bleeding into bitter comments.

“how does he have time for this when he’s supposed to be focused on racing?” one tweet read.

but it was the people closest to you both who mattered most. his childhood friends texted him with teasing congratulations, while his team principal offered a wary but approving nod during their morning meeting.

you both found solace in the few who didn’t see you as headlines. your closest friend, charlotte, had texted a simple, “finally. you look happy.”

by the time the day faded into night, you and charles found yourselves back in the privacy of his apartment, the curtains drawn tightly against the outside world.

you were curled up on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, holding you close. the television was on but muted, the images of your own faces flashing across the screen.

“we did it,” you said, your voice soft.

he tilted his head to look at you, his smile easy and warm. “we did.”

there was a moment of quiet between you, the kind that only comes after a storm. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, his presence grounding you.

“are you scared?” he asked after a while, his voice steady but filled with a quiet vulnerability.

you thought about it, letting the question settle. “a little,” you admitted. “but it’s worth it. you’re worth it.”

his grip tightened, his lips brushing against your temple. “and you’re worth everything,” he whispered.

for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel so daunting.

the sea stretched endlessly before you, a shimmering expanse of blue meeting the horizon. the yacht rocked gently beneath you, the salty breeze carrying a soothing lull. it was just the two of you, tucked away from the world, the chaos of the past few days fading into a distant memory.

you sat on the deck, the setting sun casting golden hues over everything. charles leaned back against the railing, his legs stretched out, his hand resting lightly on yours. the soft rhythm of the waves was the only sound between you, a perfect contrast to the cacophony of cameras and whispers you’d left behind.

“so,” he began, his voice breaking the quiet, “what now, princess?”

you smiled at the teasing lilt in his tone but didn’t answer right away. instead, you watched as the sun dipped lower, the colors of the sky bleeding into the water.

“everything,” you finally said, turning to meet his gaze. “whatever comes next. your races, my duties… all of it.”

his brows lifted slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “ambitious.”

“necessary,” you corrected, leaning into him. “i don’t want to live a life where we’re just managing. i want it all—with you.”

he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his touch was tender, his gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity.

“you make me believe we can have it,” he murmured. “the racing, the crazy schedules, the royal events… and somehow, still, us.”

you nodded, your fingers tracing absent patterns on the back of his hand. “because we’re worth it. and we’ll figure it out. together.”

a comfortable silence settled over you again, the kind that felt more like a promise than an absence of words. the sun had almost disappeared now, the first stars twinkling in the deepening sky.

charles shifted, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his chest. you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a reminder of everything solid and real between you.

“you know,” he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful, “no matter where life takes us, no matter how loud it gets out there… you’ll always be my quiet.”

you tilted your head up, your smile soft but radiant. “and you’ll always be my chaos.”

his laughter was quiet, his lips finding yours in a kiss that felt like the culmination of everything—your love, your fears, your hopes.

as the stars reflected off the calm sea, you knew, deep in your bones, that this was it. not the end of the story, but the beginning of everything that mattered. together, you’d face the chaos and carve out your quiet moments. because in each other, you’d found not just love, but a home.

and the world, for all its noise, could never take that away.

taglist ⋯

@landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora@idgasb@amalialeclerc@laneyspaulding19@staurdvst@oreosareara@sideboobrry11@mortallyblueninja@fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot@fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x y/n #anon ask #f1 fic #formula 1 #🍋*—mine

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its-avalon-08 · 5 months ago

Text

it all fell down (ln4)

part1

multipart story! next

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

The bustling streets of Monaco were as busy as ever, a stark contrast to the calm that Y/N felt inside. The rhythmic tapping of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the sleek office building. She had always loved the city, but now it represented something more than just beautiful scenery; it was her sanctuary, her fresh start.

"Morning, Y/N," greeted Claire, her assistant, as she handed Y/N her daily latte.

"Morning, Claire. Any updates for today's schedule?" Y/N asked, taking a sip of the coffee, savoring the familiarity of the taste.

"Just the usual. The meeting with the investors is at 10 AM, and you have a lunch appointment with Mr. Dupont at 1 PM," Claire replied, handing over a neatly organized file.

"Perfect. Let's make sure everything is set for the presentation," Y/N said, her voice steady and professional.

As the CEO of her own thriving marketing firm, Y/N had built a reputation for herself. She was known for her sharp mind, impeccable work ethic, and the ability to turn even the most mundane products into must-haves. Her company, InspireVision, had taken the European market by storm, landing high-profile clients and creating groundbreaking campaigns.

But behind the polished exterior and the confident demeanor lay a heart that had been shattered two years ago. The memories of Lando were locked away in a corner of her mind she seldom visited. The laughter they shared, the dreams they built together, the love that once felt unbreakable—all of it was a distant echo now. They had both moved on, or so she told herself.

sneak peek into lando's life

The sound of engines roaring filled the air as Lando Norris stepped out of his sleek, black McLaren. The circuit was alive with energy, mechanics bustling around, and the smell of burning rubber in the air. For Lando, this was home.

"Hey, Lando! Ready for practice?" called out Carlos Sainz, his teammate and close friend.

"Always, mate," Lando replied with a grin, adjusting his racing suit. "Let's show them what we've got."

The past two years had seen Lando rise to new heights in his racing career. He had secured multiple podium finishes and even a race wins. The world saw him as a fierce competitor, a young talent with a bright future. But beneath the helmet and the bravado, there was a part of him that still ached.

"Hey, Lando, I was thinking about grabbing dinner at that new place by the marina. You in?" Carlos asked as they headed towards the garage.

"Sure, sounds good. Need to unwind a bit," Lando replied, though his mind was only half on the conversation.

Racing was his escape, his way of pushing away the thoughts of what could have been. The nights were the hardest, when the adrenaline faded and the silence crept in. It was then that memories of Y/N surfaced—her smile, her touch, the way she used to laugh at his jokes. They had shared twenty years of friendship and five years of love, only to part ways abruptly. They had never spoken again, both too proud and too hurt to reach out.

back to y/n

Y/N's day was a whirlwind of meetings and phone calls. By the time she sat down for lunch with Mr. Dupont, she was mentally exhausted but maintained her poised demeanor.

"It's impressive what you've done with InspireVision, Y/N," Mr. Dupont said, raising his glass in a toast.

"Thank you, Mr. Dupont. It’s been a journey, but I have a great team behind me," Y/N replied, clinking her glass with his.

As they discussed potential collaborations, her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at it briefly—an update on the Monaco Grand Prix. She quickly dismissed it, burying any thoughts of the racing world and its connection to her past.

and here is lando again

The practice session went well, and Lando felt a familiar rush of excitement. After a quick debrief with his team, he headed out with Carlos for dinner.

As they walked along the marina, the city's lights reflecting off the water, Lando felt a rare moment of peace.

"You ever think about what's next, beyond racing?" Carlos asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Sometimes. It's hard to imagine life without it, though," Lando admitted.

"Yeah, I get that. But there's more to life than just racing, you know?" Carlos said, giving Lando a knowing look.

Lando nodded, understanding the unspoken words. There was more to life, but it was a life he had once envisioned with Y/N. Now, it was a blank canvas, waiting for new memories to be painted on it.

The two former lovers, now strangers to each other's lives, were both thriving in their own worlds. They had built walls around their hearts, focusing on their careers and new dreams. Yet, the echoes of their shared past lingered in the background, a silent reminder of the love that once was. Neither spoke of the other, living as though the other didn't exist. But fate had a way of bringing people back together, sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys

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