herasversion - Tumblr blog

herasversion · 17 hours

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King Takes Knight

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: R

Words: 4.2K

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut!!! P in V, oral (m receiving), fingering, slight public sex, handjob, small M x M, Mafia, etc.

Requested: Yes/No

Request: My formal request for mafia charlando ahahha. I can deffff see Charles being mafia leader in Monaco, inherited through family, goes generations back and then lando just recently got into it after moving to Monaco. And that’s why Charles let’s him take reader cause he knows he’s more powerful and he’ll get her back and lando with reader too. Ooo or maybe reader is in on it too. Not me cooking this up at 4am it’s time for me to go to bed

Synopsis: Lando hated that Charles had you, so when he takes you, he finds out he's nothing but a game piece.

"He's staring." The ghost of his words has you shivering, pushing back into your husband's body. His hand splashes perfectly on your stomach, pulling you back even more. "I know. He can't take his eyes off." You mummer, craning your neck and kissing the bottom of his jaw.

Your husband's hand squeezes slightly from your stomach to hold your neck. "Teasing him, my little mégère?" You whimper, the pressure of his fingers digging into your neck. "Giving him a show." You whisper, smashing your lips together. Your husband rolls his hips into your own. Tongues mixing, he curls his, laying his claim to you.

Mewling, you pull away, eyes drifting over to your husband's newest member. Lando Norris. An adorable Brit who joined not too long ago, his skin was kissed by the sun, eyes a gorgeous ocean green, and curls that make you want to pull on them. Lando kept to himself, but he was by your side whenever he was in the room with you.

"Maybe we should play a game with him, hm?" You rock back, watching Lando's eyes harden, ripping away from you and your husband. Oh, your husband, Charles Leclerc. Charles was the current head of his family, a mafia dynasty he has now inherited. No one could touch him, or you, for that matter. Charles was a force, an unmoveable object that was to not be messed with.

"I heard a rumor." Charles smiles, licking a strip from your ear to your shoulder before placing a slight bite on the bundle of nerves at the bottom of your neck. "And what was that rumor, my Queen?" Spinning around, you face Charles. Hair messy, the way you liked it. Wearing a tailored all-black suit with a red pocket square. "Lando wants to kidnap me." His eyes go black hearing those words, but the wolfish smile on his face tells a different story.

"Hmmm, should we play a little game?" You smile, pulling the front of your dress down. Grabbing Charles's hand, you place them on the curve of your tit. "Fuck, my little vixen. Am I going to have to fuck you here in front of everyone?" Shaking your head, you slide your hand down to the front of his trousers. Cupping his cock, you feel it harden, licking your painted dark wine lips. "I suggest I walk off to the garden," Undoing his buckle, you move closer so no one can see what you're doing.

"Lando will follow me, and," Charles takes a deep breath, watching as his men and others dance, drink, and get rowdy. "I can cry about how you aren't good to me, but you are excellent," Watching as your husband's eyes drop. Your hand is now in his pants, slowly pumping him from base to tip. "He'll kidnap me, most likely take me to that new summer house you bought for him," Charles groans, hands squeezing your tits, and he places hickies on them, laying his claim.

"Thought I didn't know about that?" Charles whimpers when your hand tightens at his base, watching his cock turn a gorgeous soft red. "Couldn't, fuck, help myself. The way his eyes light up, don't stop, when I gave him the keys, fucking hell," Charles gasps, hips shaking as you move your hand up and down faster. Only you could render the great Charles Leclerc to a whimpering, begging mess.

"Mhm, but he'll take me. Let me make him ours. Please, my King?" You make your eyes big, Charles groaning as you squeeze his tip. "Fuck, je te maudis, ma renarde . Je te donnerais le putain de monde. Tu as ma permission, je le veux aussi." Charles moans, kissing you as he spills into your hand. Pulling away his own lips, wear your dark wine color. (Curse you my fox. I'd give you the fucking world. You have my permission, I want him too.)

"I love you. I'll see you at the summer house." Charles smiles, kissing you with such softness you almost cry. Pulling your hand out of his pants, you lick it clean. Charles seriously thinks of keeping you. "Go before I never let you leave." Nodding, you rush off, slipping into the crowd.

------------------------

You knew he was behind you. He was a walking shadow. Where you went, he was there as well. He was never by your side but close enough to step in when you needed him. And right now, you're about to play with his feelings for you.

"Lando?" His body goes rigid, hearing the soft, broken tone of yours. "Mrs. Leclerc?" rushing to your side, you hide your face in his chest. His skin was warm. His shirt was opened slightly, resting your face on the skin, letting him feel those fake tears touch him. "What happened? What did he do?" Pulling you away, he wipes your tears away, smearing your makeup.

"He's horrible. Always makes me lie in his bed, and he's always with other women. Treats me like a personal maid than his wife. Made me watch what he does to his enemies. I'm trapped." You cry, curling yourself back into Lando. Lando growls, pulling you closer as he looks around. No one is around. This was perfect.

"Hey, it's okay. Let me take you back to the main estate." Smirking, you quickly wipe it away when Lando looks down at you. "I just want to be free, and I can't. He'll never let me leave." You whimper, and Lando's hands tighten on your waist. "Bastard, I can get you out of here." You pull back, sniffling. "Lando, I can't. He's my husband. I'm his property. I can't leave." Fingers tugging on his necklace, Lando's jaw tightens. "You can leave. You're leaving with me." His grip tightens on your arm as he starts to drag you.

"Lando, no. Let me go." You start to fight, but he refuses to listen. "Stop fighting me! I'm trying to save you." He roars, shaking you as you whimper. Playing the weak little wife of a scary Mafia King was so easy. You two stare at each other, a raging hurricane in his eyes and yours a mere rainstorm. "Save me." You whisper. Lando throws the door open, shoving you inside.

"Should we follow?" Charles swirls his drink, watching Lando move around the car and get in. Sitting up, he smiles, sipping it. "No, don't follow. I know where they are heading. Give it a week or two, and then I'll follow." Charles watches as Lando's car pulls out, driving into the night.

"King takes Pawn."

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Two Weeks Later

The sea air brushes your nose, waking you from your peaceful slumber. Stretching, you smile, looking at the clear blue water. Maldives. Charles had bought Lando the home. It was odd that Lando would bring you somewhere like this. The poor boy was young, probably thinking Charles would check everywhere for you. Not considering one of his men would take his wife.

Shivering, you turn, seeing Lando's fingers run up and down your exposed back. You've slowly been reeling Lando in. Late last night, you woke to Lando asleep on your chest, hand cupping one of your breasts. In the night, you decided to disregard your shirt, Lando moving closer. A drowsy smile is on his face, watching you wake; the open-air bungalow was gorgeous.

With white sand beaches and water surrounding you, no one was around for miles upon miles. The place had no walls, just sheer white curtains covering you. "You should sleep some more." He whispers, nose bumping into your temple, ghosting it with a kiss. "I'm not tired," Lando hums, kissing your shoulder and reaching your cheek, stopping. "Water lily, please sleep. I'm sure this is your first time to sleep without fear." His eyes pleading, almost like a child.

You almost laugh but clamp it down so Lando doesn't grow suspicious. "Lando, I slept fine. Charles always left me alone when we slept. It was," You swallow, looking at your ring. You missed your husband. This was the first time in 8 years you've slept without him by your side. "He was kind to me at night." Lando drops his head on your shoulder. "Can we stop talking about it?" He asks, hating to hear that fondness in your voice.

He didn't know if it was because he was in love with you or jealous of how Charles paid attention to you. "I'm going to cook breakfast." Climbing out of bed, you throw on Lando's black button-down shirt, heading to the mini kitchen. Slamming his face into the pillow, he groans loudly. "Fucking dumbass." Lifting his face, he stares out at the rising sun. "She clearly loves him, even though he's a horrible bastard. A beautiful, smart, arrogant bastard." Lando can't control the heat in his face and the tingle he feels in his stomach.

"Lando, can we go out today?" He sits up, the cover showing off his chest and arms, which has you locking those naughty thoughts. "Water lily, that wouldn't be smart. We might be at the world's end, but your husband is very powerful." Face falling, you nod, going back to the kitchen. The ache in Lando's chest blooms, seeing the look that crossed your face. "Dammit." Fingers tug at his hair, feeling the frustration. Throwing the covers off, he pads into the kitchen, back to him.

"Mrs," Lando clears his throat, stopping himself. "Y/n, we...we can go out on the boat." Whipping around, your face glows with that smile he fell in love with. "Really? It won't," You pause. Moving, he wraps his arms around you, head resting on his shoulder. "No, it'll be fine. I'm just being overprotective. Mr. Leclerc is powerful, and while I'm from a family with money, he is on a different level." You can't control the coy smile. Glad that Lando can't see the gloating look on your face.

"We're in the middle of nowhere, and I doubt Charles knows you're the one who took me. He trusts you. He wouldn't even think to look here." Pulling away, you smile, pecking Lando's cheek, which has him blush. "Get dressed. We can leave in a few." Giggling, you rush off to get dressed.

------------------------------------------

You smirk as Lando tries hard to focus on driving the boat and not you. It was the bikini. Did the same thing to Charles when you were on your honeymoon. A trick you were taught a while ago was to take the top of the bikini and flip the top around so you tied the bottom around your neck and your underboob. It makes your tits look glorious, which has Lando's mouth watering at the sight.

"What's that?" Sitting up, you notice a large opening in the mountain. "Looks like a cave!" Lando yells over the rushing wind. Perfect, standing, you wobble back to Lando and push into his arm. His neck and jaw tighten at the feeling of you pressed into his skin. "Let's go explore it!" Pressing yourself closer, Lando turns the boat, slowing it down. "We have to be careful. No idea what could be there or how deep the water is." You clap, heading to the front.

"A sand bar." Lando slows the boat farther. "Come here, water lily." You run to the back, Lando instructing you to drive the boat as he pulls it in to tie it off. Watching Lando move in the sun, you lick your lips. He was stunning in a boyish way, but also, when he was serious, he was sharp like a diamond. "Alright, we're all good. Come on." Holding his hand, you take it as Lando helps you into the sand bar. "It's gorgeous." Gasping as you both walk to the cave. It was opened air, going far deeper than the eye could see, but you kept close to the open. The sand grew about 2 feet, the water ghosting it each time it waved.

"I don't regret marrying him." Lando freezes before you, he was searching for rocks, but hearing those words, he stops. "Why?" "Why what?" Lando turns to you, looking you up and down. "Why do you not regret marrying him?" Thinking it over, you smile, "He wasn't always like that. We, he, was my first, and seeing what he's become has been hard." Reaching up, Lando presses his palm to your cheek, watching you lean into it. "I'll never do that to you, never." Stepping into him, you move his hand to your waist.

"I know you won't." Lando and you stare at each other, unsure what to do next. "I want to kiss you, really kiss you, but I'm scared you don't feel the same way." Vulnerability shines in his eyes, fingers dancing with anxiety on your skin. "Trust me, if you kissed me, I'd never stop you." Hearing that, restraint breaks as he devours you. Lips move as hands land on your ass, squeezing as he pulls you in. "Easy, baby boy," Lando whines, hearing that he pulls away. "You forget, Lando. I don't do fast and needy. Let me show you the proper way to love someone like me." Lando nods his head, eager to learn.

"Show me, please." He whispers. You knew you could get him to be a needy mess right where you wanted him. He was the type of man to let you be in charge. Charles, you'd just need to suck his cock, but with Lando, just a couple of words and he was putty in your hands. "Good boy." Lando shivers as you move his hands to your waist. "Went straight for the ass, you have to work me up. Make me crave you there." Lando nods his head, watching.

"Now," Stepping from his hold, you untie your top, letting it fall. "When a woman wants you, it's subtle or straight to the point. For me, I'm subtle. Make you work for it, like a chess game. I'm the Queen. Do you know what the makes you?" Shaking his head, no, his hand moves, palming your tit. Biting your lip, you groan when he tweaks your nipple. "Don't worry, you'll figure out which piece you are." Stepping closer, you grab his other hand, placing it on your stomach.

"You're gorgeous, Water Lily." His fingers move slowly across your skin, watching your breathing stutter and grow. His eyes take in each time you make a noise or movement. He was learning, but in the back of his mind, he wondered if you had to teach Mr. Leclerc this. "Stop, I know what you're thinking." Looking into your eyes, you smirk. "Thinking about my husband when I'm here, rude." Chuckling, Lando pecks your lips.

"Shit." He was able to take you off guard, fingers brushing your clit making you arch into him. "Cheeky." He sticks out his tongue, but you lean in, sucking it in your mouth as you turn it into a slow needy kiss. The pads of his fingers rub small circles with slight pressure. He was learning, building it up slowly, making your body scream for more. "Right there, yes, that's, mhm," Lando adds more pressure using small circles as he curls his two middle fingers into you.

"Can I?" Eyes like a puppy, you almost feel bad for playing this game with him. "Of course." Mouth opening, you whine before moaning as his thick fingers enter you. "Damn," A look of concentration passes Lando's face as he watches his fingers work. "Water Lily, you feel so damn good around my fingers, can't imagine what you'd feel around my cock." He whispers, delicate kisses being placed on your chest.

Looking down, you lick your lips; Charles was longer, but Lando would definitely have some girth to him. If last night was any testament, he was very.....impressive. "Pull out," Lando does as you remove your bottoms, nodding towards his own. "Oh, um." Even in the dimly lit cave, you could see the bright red on your cheeks. "What? Never been naked in front of a woman before?" He looks away, fidgeting with the ties on his swim trunks.

"Lando? Have you? Are you?" You're at a loss for words. He was kind, funny, shy, and protective of the people he cares for. "Yes, I'm a virgin. That a problem?" A slight bit to his words, you could tell that he was nervous. "That's adorable. So you really are all mine." Fingers weave into his waist, tugging at the trunks. "Are you comfortable with this? To have your first time in a cave?" Pressing his forehead against yours, he smiles. "If it's with you, I don't care where it is." Tugging the trunks down, you watch as his cock slaps his hip, and a little moan passes your lips.

"What are you doing?" You couldn't resist but fall to your knees, wrapping a hesitant hand around his base. "Oh," He's at a loss for words, whimpering when you wrap your lips around his tip. Swirling your tongue, you start to move up and down, learning what he likes. "Water, god your, fuck," Whining, he fiddles with his hands, not knowing where to put them. Seeing this, you stop, moving them to hold your head, fingers resting on your jaw. "There, don't be afraid to touch me." "Mhm," Breathing heavily, he shivers when you return to pleasuring him.

"Y/n, fuck, I'm," You pull off, placing a kiss along his shaft and looking up at him. "Shhh, it's okay." Trying to compose himself, he nods, "Why'd you stop?" Getting off your knees, Lando is quick to wipe your knees off, making sure you're not hurt. "Because I want you to come in me." Like a fish, he gaps at you, at a loss for words. "Now, lay on your back." Scurrying, he moves as you straddle his lap, rocking your hips and slowly rubbing your lips over him.

"Please, enough, Y/n," He gasps, moving his hips up, giggling. You push them back down. "Shhhh," Pushing his sweaty hair back, you lean down, soft kisses on his cheek before nipping his ear. "It'll be okay, baby. I'll take care of you." Reaching down, you line him up, and rocking your hips back, you slide him in. Screwing his eyes shut, Lando takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He doesn't want to finish so soon.

Looking down at Lando, you place your hand on his chest and start to move. Eyes flying open, Lando stares at you with awe hands landing on your ass. "There you go, baby." Lando nods, hands squeezing as you drag it out forward and backward. "How pretty you look." Lando was pretty, sand covering his body, hair messy and so curly, eyes sparkling, looking like the sea. "Me, you're, fucking christ, a ugmh, goddess." Lando whimpers out.

Smiling, you move faster, adding a small swirl in your hips. "Shit, if you do that again. I will," You make a complete circle with your hips. Arching your back, you place your hands on his thighs as you bounce. "That's okay, baby boy. Don't hold back." You gasp, feeling that tingle grows in your stomach. "Here, with your thumb. Rub a circle." Removing one of his hands from your ass, you place it on your clit. Lando, taking instruction well, starts to do as you say. "Jesus, yes." You cry, throwing your head back.

"I'm, oh god." Lando scrunches his face as he stops his movements. You ride him out, feeling him in you. "There you go, such a good boy." You praise; Lando's thumb puts more pressure, making you gasp, rocking forward as you clamp down on him as you finish. "Shit," Collapsing on his chest, arms like jelly Lando wraps them around you. "I love you." Your eyes fly open, and every molecule in your body stops. Shit, fuck, damn, this was bad.

"You don't have to say it back. I know you still love Mr. Leclerc, but I wanted you to know." His fingers rub into your body, working out the tension. "We have to go before high tide comes in." Climbing off Lando, you're quick to get dressed, tossing him his trunks. "Okay," Fuck, you hated hearing that disjection in his voice.

------------------------------------------------

The boat ride was quiet, but you kept yourself curled into Lando, eyes closed. "We're back." Nodding, you jump off, wading to shore, and quickly clock the curtains moving. You swear you tide them down before leaving. Shrugging your pad into the area, stopping when you see a man sitting at the table. A chess board out.

"Char," He holds a finger up to his lips, silencing you. He looks you over, eyes narrowing when he sees the handprints and love bites over your body. "I can cook tonight. We can fix something unhealthy. Maybe pasta or," Lando goes to stone as he stares at Charles. "I wouldn't." Looking over, you see Lando's hand in the air, clearly going to reach for you. "Tell me, how was it running off with my wife? Playing house with her? Kissing her? Fucking her?" Charles growls out the last part, standing up.

Your body craves to be next to Charles, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms. You've missed your husband. The way he would wake you up with food or between your legs. He'd have your favorite drink ready and kiss you on the forehead. You missed his smell, a hint of vanilla and coffee.

"Stay the fuck away from her," Lando snarls, stepping closer to you, but you don't move to stare at your husband. His eyes move from Lando's to yours, melting when he sees the yearning in your eyes. "Come here." Charles opens his arms, steps forward, and is pulled back by Lando. "What are you doing? He was horrible to you." Lando whispers, fear and anger evident in his voice. "No, he isn't." Pulling away, you move, collapsing into Charles's arms.

"I've missed you." Charles smiles, kissing you on the head as he stares at Lando. "It's okay, my Queen, I'm here." Pulling away, you wipe your eyes, finally feeling home. "What, how," Charles moves you to the side, stepping closer to Lando. "What should I do with you? Taking my Queen, my equal. I should have you killed." "Charles," Lando looks at you, hurt, but then stares at Charles. "If you think that is fair, for this betrayal." He grits out. Cocking his head to the side, your husband looks Lando up and down.

"He is adorable, like an obedient puppy. Wanting to please its master." Reaching his hand out, he cups Lando's cheek, thumb pulling down his bottom lip. "Mhm, very good. He has that look of wanting to kill me or maybe fuck me." Lando rips his face out of Charles's hold, glaring. "Easy, little cub, you don't have those claws or teeth yet." "Stop teasing him, Charles." You ground out, growing defensive as you step in front of Lando.

"I don't need you to protect me." Lando moves, but Charles rips him back, holding him by the jaw. "Watch it, I don't care if you fucked my wife and took her from me. But, she seems to adore you. And I find you amusing." Charles looks him up and down, grip growing tighter. "A very nice Knight, you are the perfect piece. You almost took the Queen but can't take the King." Lando hates his internal battle between fighting and dropping to his knees.

"Charles, please let him go. You let us go, please. You want him as well. Stop this. You're scaring me." His hand drops from Lando immediately, pulling you into him. "I'm sorry, so sorry." Lando watches the terrifying man before he turns into this marshmallow of a husband. He can't watch this anymore, the woman he loves being consoled by her husband. Moving past, he stops seeing the chessboard.

All the other players except the King, Queen, and Knight were gone. "I'm the Knight." Pulling away from Charles, you wipe your eyes. "What?" Confused by his words. "You asked me in the cave," Cheeks blooming red, Charles raises an eyebrow, now very curious. "What piece I was, you're the Queen. Mr. Leclerc is clearly the King that makes me the Knight." Holding the piece up, you two smirking while Lando glares. "I'm not a fucking chess piece." Whipping it past Charles's head. "Go pack, love." Nodding, you walk past to the bedroom.

"Sit down." Lando doesn't move, the two men staring each other down. "Sit. Down." Wavering, Lando sits down as Charles steps into his space. "You are adorable. Those eyes must've gotten her to do anything." He mummers fingers, pushing back his curls. "I'm not a game," Lando whispers, trying to calm himself down. "No, but this whole you kidnapping her and making you hers was. Just you and me standing now." Plucking up another Knight piece, placing it on the board, and snatching the Queen.

"What do you want from me?" Charles looks down, smirking, feeling his pants tighten. "Right now? Nothing, but later. So much." Thumb tracing those plump lips. "Go pack, we're going back home." Swallowing a golf ball, Lando stands going to pack as well. Looking at the board, Charles smirks. "King takes Knight." Flicking the piece over, watching it roll onto the ground.

1K notes · View notes

herasversion · 6 days

Text

Disease : paranoid ✦ cl16

summary: The fact that you have to work as a Formula One driver's assistant for your final college grade is not the worst of your problems; the true issue is that no one told you that you would become a emotional support human for him.

pairing: charles leclerc x assistant!reader

tags: fluff + angst?, caring charles (tiny bit) + comfort, bad thoughts.

# part one - next part [ series masterlist ]

Everything feels unreal. You're watching the mechanics work in the garage, and the only thing you can think is: has red always been such a pretty color?

It was the first race of the season, and you didn't have much to do yet, they told you that you just needed to make sure that Charles did everything that they asked him to do, and that was easy, thanks to him.

“Have you seen my notebook?" Charles asks as he looks around to see if he can catch a glimpse of the tiny notebook somewhere, you let out a chuckle, grab your purse from the floor and give him what he needs.

“How is it that you always have everything I need?” he took the notebook from your hands and opened it “I try my best” he gave you a knowing look.

Charles still remembers the first time he saw you at the Ferrari headquarters in Maranello, you had just signed your contract with them and he had just been told that he had a new assistant.

You were quite awkward and a bit clumsy when he first struck up a conversation with you. He learned that this was your first job, and he made a mental note to make you feel welcome, and also he didn't want you to leave him like the others.

He tried his best to make you feel as comfortable as possible before the season started, he was patient and generally nice, which was what you really needed at that moment.

When you made your first mistake and didn't tell Charles that he was supposed to be in a meeting, he took the blame and told Fred that it was his fault.

You thought he would be angry, but he just said "It's okay, everyone makes mistakes" and in that moment you thank the angels for making him such a nice person.

"Thank you, Mr. Leclerc"

"None of that, we are a team you and I, if you ever need help just come to me."

That was a month ago when you were still new and walking on eggshells trying not to make any mistakes, luckily you got better after all your final grade depended on it.

"Have you eaten today?" Charles asks, handing his notebook back to you, just needed to check something he thought he should comment on the car in the next meeting they will have.

"I haven't, but I was about to do so," you told him as you walked out of the garage with him beside you, trying your best not to look at him to see his face, which probably had a disappointed look on it.

"I thought you said you already ate."

"I did."

"What did you have?"

"Coffee," you mumble softly as you enter the Ferrari hospitality, "that's not food y/n," he scolds you again, you already lose count of how many times he does this.

Charles grabs a plate and starts to put different kinds of fruit on it, "you already ate," he nods, "This is for you," you try to grab the plate out of his hands, but he stretches his arm as high as he can to make sure you don't have a chance to grab it.

"It's my food, let me grab what I want," he ignores you, grabs your wrist, and walks over to one of the tables.

He pulls out a chair for you and you sit down, he puts the plate in front of you and sits across from you, motioning for you to start eating, which you do, but not before giving him the meanest look you can.

You take out your phone and play a YouTube video while you eat, it is a bad habit and Charles has told you several times but he still watches with you.

When you put the phone at the right angle so that you and Charles can see the video without any problems, you notice that he is not watching.

“Mr. Leclerc" you called him but he didn't answer, you sighed softly, you know he heard you.

"Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"You have to stop doing that," he tilted his head as if he didn't know what you were saying, "I shouldn't call you that," "Why not?" "Because you're my boss.”

"There's nothing wrong with calling me that, besides it makes me feel old when you call me Mr. Leclerc."

"You are old"

"I'm twenty-six."

The look you gave him was enough to make a dramatic gasp come out of his mouth, you were already used to his tactics so you didn't apologize for calling him old.

When the alarm on your phone went off, you grabbed it and stopped it before it could keep ringing, "Time to go, you have a meeting," you said as you handed him his notebook that he needed for to take notes.

He gave you a quick thanks, but you grabbed him and raised your hand, he gave you a pout, but you shook your head at that, he took his phone out of his pocket and placed it in your hand, "it was worth the try," he muttered to himself.

✦ ✦ ✦

While you were waiting for Charles' meeting to end, you took out your laptop and started to finish the assignment you were supposed to send for this month.

You were quite happy when your professor told you that all you had to do was to send in a report on what you had done, the experience you had gained, and what you had become better at, for your monthly assignment.

It was a pretty easy assignment since you were traveling around the world and learning things that you didn't even know existed, and since this was your first job, it was easier for you because you were learning a lot of new things.

“Y/n?" You took your eyes off the computer and looked at the person calling your name, you tilted your head as if to ask if they needed anything but they shook their head and motioned with their hand towards the hospitality door.

You quickly grab your things and walk to the door to greet your friend, "Did you see what Professor Brown posted in the announcements?" You shake your head and ask, "Is it something important?" "Depends, he wants us to take pictures of what we have been doing lately."

It didn't sound too bad, if the assignments continued to be like this, you were pretty sure you'd get an easy A.

"Did you do it?" You ask her, "I did," she nods, "but I came here to tell you because I know sometimes you don't check the announcements," you give her an embarrassed smile, "I'm not that bad," you mutter softly, and she gives you a look, which you shrug off.

"Well, I'm going back, I'm pretty sure Lando is already out of control again, see you, take care," she gave you a quick hug before walking quickly towards the McLaren hospitality.

You watched her go and sighed, taking your phone out of your pocket, ready to take some pictures to send with the assignment, "Hey, have you seen Andrea?" You jump a little at the voice next to you, "Don't do that, and yes he’s in your driver's room, are you okay? You've been acting weird since yesterday" you ask him with concern evident in your voice, but he quickly shrugs it off and tells you that he is fine.

You make a mental note to ask him later. "I'm going to exercise, go to my driver's room if you need anything, okay?" You nod, take his phone out of your purse and hand it to him.

He quickly says goodbye and walks away before you can say anything else to him, you have noticed that Charles has been acting strange since you arrived in Bahrain.

You have been meaning to ask him about it, but every time you get the chance he seems to run away, which is so unlike him.

You snap out of your thoughts and head back into the hospitality area, ready to take some pictures and send off the assignment.

✦ ✦ ✦

Practice one is about to start and everyone is running around making sure everything is perfect. The only thing that seems not to be here is the driver.

"Y/n, where is Charles?" Fred asks, you want to shrug your shoulders but then you remember that this is your job, and you should know where he is, you look at him and tell him you're going to get Charles, and he gives you a thumbs up.

You look for Charles everywhere, including his driver's room and the hospitality area. Has he left? You were pretty sure you saw him a few minutes ago.

How can a person disappear so quickly? you even ask people from other garages and they haven't seen him.

You tried to call him, but his phone was dead, it didn't even send you to voicemail.

"Y/n!" You hear someone yell your name and quickly turn your head towards Carlos, he seems out of breath, and you can see his chest rising and falling faster than normal.

"Charles is in my driver's room, I don't know what happened," he said, but that was enough for you to start running towards the Ferrari driver's room. You still shouted a thank you to Carlos and that seemed to have caught the attention of other people who looked at you strangely.

But you did not care about that, you needed it to find Charles and to make sure that he was ready to get into the car.

You reach the driver's room trying to catch your breath as much as you can, you probably look terrible with hair sticking in your face from how much you've been sweating, you want to kill him for making you suffer like this.

You were now outside Carlos' driver's door and you could hear soft mumbling, was he talking to himself?

You knocked softly on the door and waited for an answer, when you got none you decided to open the door.

"Charles how can-" you couldn't continue as Charles was lying on the floor with his hands on his head rocking back and forth as if trying to calm himself down, your thoughts of scolding him left you just by seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

You walked as slowly as you could and bent down to his level. You grabbed one of his hands, and that was enough for him to look at you quickly.

"I'm sorry - I can't, it's going to be like last year," he said quickly, you know from what you heard that last year was not a good one for Charles, the car didn't seem to work for him at all, you didn't know he was that affected by it, and now looking at him you didn't want him to feel that way.

He's such an amazing person and always so happy and joking with you, but he was hiding a lot of things that had hurt him and you couldn't let that happen.

"Hey, you can do this, okay?" both your hands grab his face and you give him a tiny smile, "I can't..." you shush him and try to get as close to him as you can, were you allowed to hug him? You did not know, but at that moment he probably needed it.

"Hey, those bad days don't define you, you're amazing and such a talented driver, last year the car wasn't good, let's leave that in the past, okay? This is a new opportunity and you're going to show everyone who Charles is, you're going to make them eat their words, so go and destroy them, champ".

That seems to make Charles' worries melt away a bit, you told him to take a deep breath with you, and when you felt that he was better you slowly let him go. But that seems to be a wrong move, because when you do, Charles seems to look at you as if you took something away from him, but you ignored it.

"Okay champ get up, time to make jaws drop with your amazing driving" you joked and you were quite happy because you could see the corner of his mouth move up a bit.

"Thank you, Mon ange"

"None of that, we are a team, you and I, remember?"

He nodded and in that moment he let himself look at you while you smiled at him, he felt as if your smile had the power to melt away his worries leaving behind a feeling of peace, in that moment he was grateful for you, he took a deep breath and let it out, there was nothing to worry about.

He's pretty sure this season will go well with you by his side because you wouldn't leave him, would you?

Scuderia :: @evie-119 @tempo-rary-fix @spookystitchery @boiohboii @halleest @itsjustkhaos @aphroditeisamilf @vicurious28 @lozzamez3 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @heyheyheyggg @teamnovalak @fakeplastiqtree @michelleyw81 @lillyssh-tposts @these-books-are-ruining-my-life @kqliie @deliciousfestsalad @biitch-with-wifi @xohollie01 @charlesleclerc2003 @loloekie @elliegrey2803 @steamy-smoker @doesnt-care @delululeclerc @vip-access @theseerbetweenus @haikyuen @arian-directioner @marvelfangirl04 @melagem02 @rach3164 @zucchinimalfoy @scopeiguess @landoslutmeout @reiofsuns2001 @badussybumper @nixily @forevercaffeinated-lee @i-wish-this-was-me @gabys-gabs @entr4p3 @trouble-sistar @thef1diary @puttyly @solo2leo @f1and1d4eva @liliummz

Team radio: I hope you like! it I feel I could have done better but English is not my first language but I will do my best to improve, I will keep practicing and improving my writing every day.

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herasversion · 9 days

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A Piece Of Your Soul - Charles Leclerc

Summary: Charles' life has led up to this moment. He'd been robbed before but 2024 is when it changes. A Monegasque winning in Monaco. Taking the home win and not only that but the Monaco win. Standing on the podium and relishing in it.

Ngl reader is not quite as graceful and elegant as Alex was in the race while watching so prepare yourself.

No part 2 requests please

For someone who is so patriotic to Monaco. Monaco has never loved Charles back the way he loves his home.

But yesterday when he got that pole, y/n felt a type of relief that was without a doubt shared by Charles.

Getting ready in the morning Charles is leaving ahead of y/n but not without breakfast. Though his late night pizza wasn't actually that long ago.

"You look excited." Y/n comments earning a nod and smile.

"I am starting from pole and this time. This time it will be a win." Charles states which actually makes her grin since if there's one sign of a good chance. It's confidence.

Not that Charles ever goes into a race lacking confidence, the man's mentality is so healthy. Y/n almost an envy over it. Not that she doubts her ability. It's more she'd just like a similar confidence in herself.

"I'm proud of you. Already, I'm so proud." Y/n smiles before she leans over and kisses him softly. "I love you and I can't wait to see you out on the track."

Charles smiles, his dimples deep in his cheeks as he looks at his girlfriend since he's definitely got faith but knowing she'll be watching hits him in a way that is so special.

After finishing breakfast Charles checks the time then jumps up announcing he needs to leave with everyone else who is in the apartment that needs to go with him moving to follow. Though he quickly rushes back tipping y/n's head back gently before stealing a kiss.

"I love you."

"I love you too." Y/n smiles before he jogs off with Andrea shouting for him to hurry. "I'll see you later."

"Before I am in the race. I want to see you at least once!"

Sitting above the Ferrari garage, y/n has seated herself there and just sort of remained there. Pascale and his brothers have came along with his manager and essentially his whole team who aren't in the hands-on side when it comes to the race.

Rebecca is up there too for Carlos and his family are all there.

It's Monaco.

Everyone wants to be here really.

Charles comes upstairs ahead of the drivers parade, just wanting to see everyone and Carlos also appears to speak to his family.

"Hello." Charles smiles as he finally gets to y/n who has let him speak to the rest of his team and just waited for a quiet moment. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fantastic. I watched the F2 race. It was very good-Ollie did well in it almost a podium. Just missed it." Y/n smiles earning a good. "It's looking good for Ferrari already."

"Then we will carry that into our race too."

"I know you will. Have the fattest Ferrari on that track." Y/n smiles which he nods at with a grin.

"I will."

"Good." Y/n mumbles before leaning in kissing him lightly. "I'll see you after the finish line. On that top step."

"I'll be looking for you." Charles nods making her grin at him before kissing him once more.

"Ok, go on go on. You need to go."

The race start is stressful. Poor Pascale gets her hand locked into a tight hold with y/n, though she was reciprocating it just as much. Both women in need of each other just to know he's getting off that line and through the first lap unscathed.

With Oscar and Carlos behind him, there's a chance that Carlos will distract Oscar enough that he doesn't try for a lunge.

When they line up again after the formation lap, y/n holds her breath biting her lip and when she watches the lights go out with Charles moving out and the engines revving off, they faster cars flying through the short stretch to turn 1 and Charles keeps his position.

They go up and honestly the disaster that strikes is pretty horrific, along with Carlos ending ups stopping when he gets a puncture from a tap with Oscar.

They keep going but when the sight of Checo's car comes on scream, y/n isn't the only one to gasp among the room.

Pascale questions if he's ok and thankfully Checo seems to be getting out the car just fine but he doesn't look happy and that car is totalled (fr spare a thought for the mechanics fixing that, no jokes).

"Charles is still leading-it's red flag." Y/n mumbles with a shocked expression. Though the state of that Red Bull and both Haas', it's not so much a surprise.

It's a long red flag and y/n actually begins to feel a little restless in mundane conversation. They should be over half race distance by the time the red flag is finally raised and the drivers are getting back in their cars. Y/n is looking over them out on the small balcony on top of the garage.

Carlos has been blessed with a miracle thanks to that crash that's allowed him back to a starting position of P3 again. It's still not ideal.

She watches them take off before they go around in a formation lap and line up once more, bar the Haas', Checo and Ocon who managed to break his own car hitting his own teammate in an overexcited lunge to say the least.

Another good start and then it's just a game of cat and mouse. What actually touches her is the amount of radio messages from Carlos constantly talking about concern of Charles and possible vulnerabilities. Even though it's planned whenever Oscar dips back into that DRS, her blood pressure definitely raises a little just in the fear of the off chance he goes for it catching Charles off guard and with Carlos on a mission to prevent Lando from getting a pit stop margin from George.

When Charles' radio to Bryan when Bryan clearly, stressed in his position of bringing home the win and not wanting Charles to inform anyone of his margins and inform the other teams of information they don't want him to know.

The comment of Bryan being rude does lift some of the tension but it returns and in the last lap, y/n's feels tears already welling up as Pascale holds her tightly.

When Charles passes the finish line in his Ferrari. Y/n laughs through a bit of a hiccup while the garage below them roars in excitement.

Hugs are all exchanged and y/n rushes down wanting to be there for him, though she stands back from the crowd of mechanics and Arthur with Andrea having fought their way to the front.

He gets in the interview and once he's made his speech, he does move trying to look for both his mum and y/n managing to find them, hugging Pascale and then moving to kiss y/n who is very much damp with tears while Charles is damp with sweat and trying to withhold the tears.

"Happy tears?" Charles laughs earning a small nod.

"Yes. Very happy tears." Y/n laughs sniffling before she kisses him again. "I'm so proud of you. I can't wait to see you up there."

Charles goes to say something but he's pulled away and she sighs swallowing thickly as she links arms with Pascale, both of them just awaiting for him to appear on the podium.

"I don't think either of you will be sleeping tonight." Pascale comments earning a grin.

"I'm alright with that." Y/n hums before she smiles lightly then nudging Arthur. "You will be coming with us for the night?"

"Of course."

It felt like it was an age of celebrations, but after being sent him early to go get ready for the gala, Charles does make a quick stop, shower, change and get out of the apartment for the gala.

That's where the drinking starts, but it's certainly not where it ends and somehow Charles charms the prince and princess into joining them at Jimmy'z. How he managed that is even beyond y/n's understanding and they don't stay too long but they do involve themselves and it's just all adding to the experience.

It's about 4 in the morning that they finally leave and get home, Charles is gone. Max can hardly support his own weight and Joris and Andrea helped y/n get him back inside.

"I got it from here." Y/n smiles, only slightly more sober than her boyfriend but by no means should be considered sober.

"Are you sure? You don't look very steady."

Charles states shooing them, speaking in a mix of French and Italian somehow both in one sentence which definitely earns a look of confusion from both the men but he's rushing for them to leave which forces the two of them out. Though it's obvious they're making comments of his gibberish in crossing the two languages.

Y/n is weirdly on it when it comes to getting herself ready for bed when she's drunk and she gets Charles through it too. Somehow she get them both through a skincare routine (Charles a less willing participant) before they brush their teeth and climb into bed, but honestly even with alcohol pushing them to the verge of sleep. Neither can find the calm to soothe them enough for that type of peace.

"I want to feel this feeling forever." Charles states while playing with her hair. "I wish I could capture this and come back to this day again and again. Just relive it."

"I wish we could too." Y/n smiles moving up and kissing him lightly. "I'm so proud of you...I don't care what anyone ever says about you and your driving. They can never take away how amazing of a driver you are and how much you worked for this moment."

"I'm so happy you were with me for this win. Celebrating with you made it all so perfect." Charles whispers clearly finally feeling the adrenaline drop as y/n allows herself closer, feeling him wrap his arms around her.

"I'm lucky to be here for such an incredible moment. I'll never ever forget it, even if we can't come back and relive it...you'll just have to win next year in Monaco and every year after that-even after you retire, Ferrari can bring you back just for Monaco and you can win it again and again. It won't be the same as the first win...but I think you'll enjoy it all the same." Y/n grins giving him one final kiss before he finally slips into his sleep.

His dimples are still deeply settled in his cheeks and she thinks that he might just sleep with a smile on his face for the rest of his life because this might not be a championship with Ferrari, but it broke the dry win streak, it broke the Monaco Leclerc curse and it's a home race win in Monaco. It's the top tier of top tier achievements.

Every driver wants to win at home. Every driver wants to win in Monte Carlo. Today he did both and he made every Monagasque proud, he made every Tifosi and he made the people who adore him both close to him and worldwide feel like he just got the ultimate moment in his career.

Sure he'll say a championship is next. More race wins are on the agenda. But for now he's going to relish in this feeling and y/n is going to be by his side to relief in it with him, every single second she can.

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herasversion · 11 days

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☀️Sons, Sons, and More Sons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: Fluff/SMAU Summary: Ollie, Leo, Liam, who's next Oscar? Oh.

inspired by @pucksandpower 😊

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“CHARLES!”

The said Monegasque, who had been “innocently” snuggling his four-legged son, winced at the force and volume of your voice.

He was currently going through everything that might have upset you in the past 20 minutes from when he got home to you just now getting out of the shower. Did he leave the toilet seat up again? Or did he forget to sort the laundry? Or maybe he didn’t clean up Leo’s toys from the bedroom?

“Why is my Twitter blowing up?”

Oh. That’s why.

He whispered to Leo, “I’m in for it now.”

And then in a louder voice he yelled, “Yes mon amour?”

You rounded the corner of the hallway and stopped in the opening to the living room, crossing your arms. “Care to tell me why I’m getting tagged in almost every Twitter post about you adopting Oscar?”

You wanted to break at the puppy eyes that your boyfriend was currently giving you, but you needed to stay strong. You needed to show that a man could not sway your feelings. Too bad that man was Charles Leclerc, the one that men and women alike fell to worship the ground beneath his feet.

You couldn’t break.

Charles brought his hand up to ruffle his hair, something he did to express some nervousness.

“Cheri, it was just a joke. Oscar somehow finds heritage in a lot of countries. He just wanted to keep the joke going.”

“So you decided to ‘adopt’ him so he can have another home race?”

“Maybe?”

“Don’t you already have enough sons anyway? I think four is too many or our house is going to overflow on family night.”

Charles’s eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Four?”

Now it was your turn to smirk. “Yes, four. Or are you too busy having fun with Leo to be a present father to your other two?”

Charles tried to wrack his brain about who could be the other two.

“Ollie?”

“Bingo.”

He leaned back into the couch, hands still gently petting Leo who had decided to fall asleep in the middle of his parent’s squabbles. The golden puppy was content on his dad’s warm chest, the rise and fall rocking him to sleep.

The Ferrari driver sighed. “I don’t even know.”

You waved your phone at him. “Twitter might be able to help you. I need to get dressed since I was rudely interrupted. I hope you find out before they get here for dinner.”

Charles shot up making Leo yelp away from his nap. Now that he was really looking at you, he realized that you were just in a towel. A blush formed on his face, still having those boyish thoughts that he believed he was better than that.

You walked over and bent down, face getting closer to his.

Ah. You were going to forgive him and all would be right in the world once your lips met his. You wanted to laugh as you saw his eyes flutter shut, lips slightly puckering.

Charles was wondering what was taking you so long when your finger touched his lips. His eyes shot open and he definitely did not whimper. You looked down at your fur-baby and gently picked him up, bringing Leo to your chest.

“Twitter. Figure it out Leclerc.”

Now a bit sullen, he watched you walk away.

“Je t’aime!”

He was responded to with a middle finger and the bedroom door slamming. A chuckle made its way from his chest as he brought his phone out. If there was one thing that you two did well, it was dramatics.

Twitter was immediately opened once he got his phone out. He scrolled through all the tags before giving up and opening your profile. He winced at the sight of the white background, cursing his phone for updating and not keeping the dark profile.

However, he couldn’t contain his laugh as he saw your new updated tweet. He leaned his head back, still giggling to himself.

Charles knew that you two wanted kids at some point. But between his Formula 1 career and your business on the uprise, children really wouldn’t work well now. But deep down, he liked the idea of having a few grid kids.

He took a minute to stop giggling before he continued his search. His eyes widened as he stopped on one of the family trees that some fan made.

There was Leo, adopted by you and him.

Then Ollie, who fans say that Charles conceived himself somehow.

Oscar was newer, but still had the adopted dotted line.

And then . . .

Ooohhhhhhh, so that’s who he was missing.

You took that moment to come out of the bedroom, hair now dry and fluffy from your Dyson. Leo was still in your arms, looking more awake than he had when he was with Charles. You sat down next to him, Charles taking the opportunity to put an arm around you, bringing you in closer.

“You smell good amour.”

You turned and smiled, leaning in to finally give him a kiss after a long day.

“Thank you. It’s the lotion that you bought me.”

He let out a low hum and just kept you in his arms. Leo was squirming a bit before he finally flopped over and settled in between your two bodies.

“I figured out who our other son is.”

Your head now rested in the crook of his neck. “Did you now.”

“Yes. I am a stepfather to Liam?”

Your shoulders shook with giggles. “Not the stepfather, but the father who stepped up.”

“You spend way too much on Twitter.”

You looked up at him, and Charles turned to look down at you. You leaned in closer to rub your noses together, giving him eskimo kisses. The Ferrari driver just closed his eyes and basked in the moment between you.

There weren’t many times that he got something like this. So quiet and peaceful. His world was filled with so much noise. But here, he could melt into the quiet.

“We should have dinner here with the boys after the Grand Prix on Sunday.”

“That sounds nice. I can make the food.”

You sat up slightly, elbow bent on the back of the couch and head resting on your hand.

“You want to show off your cooking skills to your sons to prove that you can cook.”

Charles huffed. “I am the provider chéri.”

You cocked your head at the Monegasque. “Whose name is on the lease mon bebe?”

A huff was the answer, which made you cuddle Charles closer still being aware of the little baby between you. A small nip to your fingertip made you pick Leo up, now holding him close to your face.

“Were you getting a bit jealous of papa ma petit amour?” you asked the blonde dachshund in a baby voice. If Charles wasn’t already fully in love with you, his love would have been solidified in this moment.

While watching, he suddenly remembered something. “Oscar wanted to meet Leo in McLaren hospitality this weekend.”

You turned with a raised eyebrow. “Why not Ferrari?”

“Eh.”

It was as if you had a lightbulb moment. “Ohhhhhhh, right. That makes sense. I can stop by and let you know when I get there.”

What you hadn’t expected was to pick up Liam and Ollie on your way to the now green outside of the McLaren hospitality. Leo was still curled up in your arms, eyes blinking every so often. You knew that if it wasn’t so busy, the little puppy would be sound asleep.

“He’s so cute,” Oscar said, walking forward and hands outstretched. You gently gave him over to the “older brother” of the three.

Ollie laughed. “I know right. He’s so cuddly.”

Liam joined in, “I don’t think I put him down the entire time I got to meet him.”

Oscar stared at you three for a moment. “Yeah, you aren’t getting him back.”

You shook your head. “Speak to your father first, Oscar.”

Chuckles erupted from all around, making you laugh as well. You took your phone out and took a quick picture of Oscar holding Leo to post later.

“Is dad on his way?” Ollie asked after sipping on his water bottle.

You rolled your eyes. “Should be. Ah, there he is.”

Charles stepped foot into the room and immediately found you surrounded by his “kids.” His heart may have melted seeing Leo flopped in Oscar’s arms. He gave you a kiss on your cheeks before he greeted the three.

“This is hilarious,” he said, making everyone laugh yet again.

You rested a hand on your forehead. “We’re just missing Liam’s dad, and then we’ll be one big happy family.”

The Kiwi crossed his arms, but a giant smile was on his face. “So much for having a present father in my life. I’m jealous.”

Charles gripped your waist and puffed his chest. “I’m not the stepfather, but the father that stepped up.”

“Charles, no you aren’t. Can’t even handle three kids.”

You and Charles turned around to see Max now stepping through the door. The Monegasque raised his eyebrow.

“And you can?”

You raised a hand. “That’s my que to leave. I will not be in the middle of a Lestappen-father showdown. Boys, you can follow me.”

“Yes mum.”

“Lead the way.”

“Can I still keep Leo?”

Charles and Max gawked as the three older boys followed you like ducks in a row. After he got over the shock, the Ferrari driver was left with a love-sick smile on his face.

“Yeah. I’m marrying her.”

“Gross.”

“Max. Shut up.”

y/n_l/n has posted

liked by y/nismother, charles_leclerc, liamlawson, and 1,304,295 others y/n_l/n look at my sons . . . pride is not the word I'm looking for

see all comments

y/nismother the mother is mothering

charliexy/n honestly, they all take after him so much. I need to go to twitter

olliebearman then what is the word you're looking for mom 🤨

liamlawson30 I knew she wasn't proud of us

oscarpiastri this is why dad is better

y/n_l/n I'm taking away all of your sims and ps5's

olliebearman I take it back, mom is the best

oscarpiastri81 this is the best thing to happen this weekend

charles_leclerc my family 🫶

maxverstappen1 you stole my son from me.

liamlawson30 they had free ice cream 🤷

y/n_l/n 😊

maxverstappen1 I'm taking pole then

charles_leclerc ☹️

lestappenlove I love the entire family your honor

leclerc16charles does Leo need another sibling? cause I can bark

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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herasversion · 11 days

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Mortal enemies my ass

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herasversion · 12 days

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The people’s princess

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herasversion · 13 days

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PRINCE OF MONACO ୨୧

♡: following his victory at the monaco grand prix, charles comes home late, back to you, drunk on moët champagne & love.

notes: charles leclerc/reader, established relationship, suggestive content & touches, alcohol, humour, use of french phrases, domesticity & fluff, baths, nudity but no explicit details or sexual activity, charles is a lovedrunk fool in this.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: more cha content out of my own indulgence <3 i wrote this at 11pm & it's a little ridiculous but this is also me projecting my manifestations for him to win his home grand prix this weekend. love you all mwah ᥫ᭡

♡ ✧ 。*・.

The sweet aroma of your Miss Dior: Eau de Parfum in damask rose and incense against pink peonies, clean linen sheets mussed about the inviting embrace of the bed, café au lait from a drained mug on the nightstand beside sweet-smelling lilies, and white, lace stockings abandoned and draped over the velvet loveseat.

Charles' claim of 1st at the Monaco Grand Prix was most blessing, and the perfect excuse for a long night of a plentiful of Moët & Chandon champagne, honorary chants, and celebratory reverie: announcing him the 'prince' of his beloved home, a victory he has been yearning for, since forever.

You had remained with him through the week, watching and admiring through every practice session from your usual seat, enjoying luncheon together and laughing over the usual lovey-dovey or noncommittal subjects as a means to distract him from his nerves before qualifying – the kind of thing he doesn't admit to but you know is only human – and your never-leaving gaze throughout the Grand Prix itself.

Until you got to watch from below with love hearts in your eyes when he stood on that podium, in his true and most divine stature whilst the crowds called for him and the Monégasque anthem resonated like the music of the heavens.

Now, it is quiet in the apartment you both call home, all minimalist but comfortable interior in a palette of white, créme, beige and hints of colour against the décor that define it as yours: the polished trophies before the white-varnished piano, heavy and velvet curtains stirring lazily about closed balconies of their rocaille-esque motifs, the abandoned sweater forgotten on the sofa, your rose crocheting yarn on the coffee table beside a copy of last month's Vogue.

Peaceful and content, stood before the ornate mirror in the en-suite of polished marble and quiet luxury, humming some gentle and absent tune to yourself as you comb your hair – dressed down to the comfortable, white gossamer silk of your négligée – whilst the only tune that resounds being the hushed television down the hall.

It is only a minute later that you are interrupted from your daydreaming by the sound of the mahogany front door as it draws open and closed. The familiar clink of keys set down on the oak furniture in the foyer, shuffled footfalls a little less balanced than usual, quickly silenced against the sound of a familiar voice like melting caramel on the subtle, slurring song of inebriation.

"Chérie?"

Hair comb set down on the neat counter beside the porcelain embellished basin, you absently gnaw at your lower-lip whilst silent feet wander the parquestry of the flooring through the flat in your approach to the source of your boyfriend's return, tucking a hair behind your ear, "Charles, I'm–"

The words are lost on the edge of your tongue the second you emerge from the bedroom's suite, down past the plush sitting area to be met by the sight of him where the corridor joins the rest of the homely setting.

"Bonsoir, bébé."

Even when he is slightly hair-tousled with damp, brunet strays falling about his forehead and the linen of his shirt slightly wrinkled, Charles is a handsome man, devastatingly so; the kind of beautiful that renders the air from your lungs a little even when you hold back light laughter at him now.

From his posture, an effort of an elegant curve to his physique like he is trying to be some suave, pretty flirt from those old, romance comedies you watch, where one elbow is propped against the wood arch of the threshold – the only thing evidently holding him upright – whilst his flushed cheeks strain a little on a dimpled, lazy and contagious smile.

"Hello, Charles."

"Ma belle, I missed you, I'm home," With something close to a brief pout and an attempt at a wink, the man lets his lovely eyes dance down and along your own figure in a lingering admiration and a slow, drawn-out smirk that looks both laughable and far-too-endearing, lithe fingers absently adjusting his loosened shirt collar as you come closer.

"I can see that," In response, you try not to appear amused though it is perceptible on the curve by the corner of your sweet mouth when his eyes follow the subtle shift of your hips as you draw forward until your arms fold around his midriff, breathing him in: champagne and cologne, hints of warm amber and rosewood. "You're drunk."

His arm falls around your shoulder comfortably as he sways against you, kissing the crown of your head like a useless reassurance when he murmurs a lieu of words in the thickened curl of his accent, "Non, ça va, je–"

"Charles." Your face shifts with a look, the both of you stumbling a little backwards where his weight almost has you falling on the edge of a floral rug, a hushed, noncommittal sound close to a chuckle falling from the man as he buries his face into the side of your neck with the punctuation of an open-mouth kiss.

"D'accord, d'accord."

"Stupid," You mutter affectionately, rolling your eyes fondly despite knowing all too well what has him so distracted, the warmth of his mouth and the gentle rasp of his five o'clock shadow tickling the underside of your jaw and the sensitivity there, a purr reverberating from the back of his throat as a response.

"Are you hungry– would you like anything?"

"Just you, chérie, I want to..." The Monégasque trails off momentarily like he is disputing internally with his own dialogue, lightly calloused palms feeling the curve of your waist through pale silk before pausing at your derrière absently – tracing his tongue against the edge of pearlescent teeth – as the two of you move further through the sitting room, his voice a whisper, "Je veux te baiser, mon ange."

With a blush dusting the edges of your cheekbones at the obscène words, you offer a half-apologetic smile whilst stroking back his tousled hair, "How about we get dressed down and settled first, at least?"

Initially, he seems reluctant to offer any hint of acquiescence but he eventually nods a little with a vague sound of acknowledgement, fingertips still feeling over your figure as you walk the path together before reaching the bathroom, the door falling shut gently.

Even when the reality of the presence has you accepting tonight shall be long, the man is undoubtedly his most entertaining and equally sweet as romanticised prophecies when he is intoxicated.

"Mm," It is the only indication you are given when Charles' touch falls upon the lace edges of your négligée, drawing it down the curve of your shoulder slowly as he traces the shell of your ear with his mouth, "You're wearing my favourite."

A soft laugh leaves the depth of your chest – a hushed affirmative sound in reply – before his hands come to cradle either side of your jaw tenderly whilst his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek, the kiss that follows his gentle persuasion more loving, his lips parted softly.

Just as quickly as the almost peaceful, drawn-out intimacy begins, it ends when he gives some hushed, breathless sound of sheer enjoyment whilst his hips absently meets yours until you feel the edge of the basin behind, a palm splaying over his chest just enough to encourage him from pausing.

"We can have a nice bath first and then I might consider your suggestion, monsieur," You offer gently in hushed humour, undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt whilst sealing your sentence with a chaste kiss near his chin.

"I'd much rather have you."

"So romantic," Muttering the words quietly, your nose brushes the bridge of his own fractionally where you see the slight glaze of liquor in his eyes, like gentle moss and warm oak, his mouth shifting almost proudly with momentarily met gazes.

"Only for you, mon cœur, I could write you sonnets of love, la mélodie de tes yeux–"

"Okay, Romeo Montague, how about you wash first?"

The initial hope had only been to coax him into the warmth of the bath waters amongst a touch lavender oil that threatens to lull him further into quiet and peace, wash his hair from your seat and prevent the possibility of any difficulty, though clothes are mutually forgotten on the marble floors and small, white-cotton rug when he guilts you into joining him.

"Charles," A whisper of his name though the cadence of your voice lacks the intent of reproach, bodies close together as he guides you into a comfortable situation about his lap whilst you work nimble fingers through his dampened hair slowly, hoping to distract him from anything but washing and settling down from the dizziness of too much alcohol.

"You smell nice," He mumbles indulgently against your shoulder, tracing a kiss on the jut of your collarbone in the dreamy lull of his voice as though lost in the figments of his own thoughts, "Like les fleurs..."

"And you smell like a bottle of Moët."

The man offers a lowered tune of disagreement, a palm idly stroking the curve of your thigh and down the inside of your knee beneath the warm water as you lather the product through his tresses, holding back a smile when he responds drunkenly like some smitten, hopeless lover of the poets:

"Non, c'est seulement le parfum des nuages."

It is the kind of sweet words that would usually have your cheeks warming or laughing like some conjured image of him in your mind, rifling through books of poetry because you cannot fathom him thinking of such phrases alone, though the moment his lips find the curve of your throat and the sensitive area beneath your jaw, it is harder not to succumb to the gentle temptation and let him have his way, a sigh falling from you.

"What are you doing?"

"Loving you." He says the words so easily, like it is the simplest, most natural truth he could ever admit, the warmth and wetness of his mouth trailing the lines of your throat and across the arch of your shoulders.

"You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with you," He sounds proud of himself. Then, he is guiding the two of you, bodies pressed flush against one another as you are moved back, the weight of him familiar and the pressure of his mouth meeting yours slowly, "Let me love you, s'il vous plaît, ma chérie."

There are the smallest fragments of his soul and the secrets of his heart within the way his body moves, the gentle touch and the softness, the vulnerability and the passion even in the humour of his intoxicated mannerisms; how he makes love and the manner he holds you after, and there is an undeniable and irrefutable trust you hold for him alone.

♡ ✧ 。*・.

a/n: i apologise. this came straight from the recesses of my tired & dreamy mind but i wanted to share, sending love ᡣ𐭩

594 notes · View notes

herasversion · 13 days

Text

but daddy i love him [guilty as sin part two] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

when an unstoppable force (the sainz men when they feel aggrieved) meets an immovable object (charles and y/n)

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, marcmarquez93 and 783,409 others

carlossainz55: never forget where you came from

view all comments

user100: insert cricket noises here

user101: who on your PR team said this was a good idea?

user102: they need to be fired, sorry not sorry

landonorris: i love your dad (tell him to stop beating me at golf)

carlossainz55: if he never lets me win he's definitely never letting you win

landonorris: so unfair i thought i was the third sainz sibling :(

carlossainz55: i'm an only child

landonorris: oh-

user103: i need this man to choke i'm being so serious rn

user104: that's so unbelievably fucked

user105: the fact his dad is probably co-signing this shit is insane that's YOUR DAUGHTER

user106: also someone give lando a lil slap around he's on the wrong side of history on this one

yourusername: scandal does funny things to pride

carlossainz55: if the scandal is betraying your family that's all you

yourusername: if we're talking about betrayal then that's your specialist subject mr. i've cheated on every girl i've ever been with - and while we're on the topic of betrayal, yes i was the one who told them

carlossainz55: i've never cheated why are you stooping to lies?

yourusername: you did it right in front of my face when i was a part of this family

carlossainz55: so you've always been comfortable going behind my back

yourusername: that's the thing, when you're treated like you don't exist by your family you learn that blood is not thicker than water

carlossainz55: i can't wait for charles to cheat on you

yourusername: btw i already called marca, they know any of those allegations from you or dad are false - good luck!

user10: obvs i know they should be doing this in private but MORE DRAMA FOR ME BABY LETS KEEP THIS GOING

user107: thank you for the validation y/n i KNEW THE SHIT STIRRING COMING FROM THAT PAPER WAS THE SAINZ CAMP

user108: and they've got the nerve to be talking about stooping - the call is coming from inside the house

maxverstappen1: ugly twins

carlossainz55: really?

maxverstappen1: i said what i said and i mean what i said

carlossainz55: i would say she's not going to fuck you bro but you really never know with her

maxverstappen1: she would never, homewrecking is a trait only the male sainzs seem to have

user109: OOP

user110: max is a real lestappen queen fighting the battles he knows charles can't

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,405 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: if you know within one glimpse, its legendary

view all comments

user114: i love how she goes from fighting her brother in one comment section to just showing off her hot bf

user115: tbf charles does have a face you'd go to war for so i get her

user116: i'd abandon my family for that face

yourusername: finally someone who fucking gets it

charles_leclerc: you made me believe in love at first sight

yourusername: awwwwww you're such a sweet talker the REAL smooth operator

pierregasly: i can verify it was love at first sight cause the man did not SHUT THE FUCK UP about you well... ever

charles_leclerc: is it a crime to love my girlfriend?

pierregasly: apparently!

yourusername: he's too cute to go to jail :(

charles_leclerc: they'd ruin me

yourusername: that's my job 🤨

pierregasly: you keep that to yourselves

user117: does this girl need to shade carlos on every single fucking post... yeah we get it he's the only reason you're relevant but god you reek of desperation

oscarpiastri: is this carlos' burner account?

user118: are the grid just sat around waiting to be tagged in to the fight against carlos?

oscarpiastri: what's he going to do? crash into me? he does that every weekend anyway

user119: uh oh carlos oscar is finally fighting back off track what are you going to do

user120: don't worry i'm sure he'll post a selfie with lando and try the whole carlando shtick to get some more PR points

maxverstappen1: oh this was not the shit slinging post i was hoping for

yourusername: something tells me you're having way too much fun with this

maxverstappen1: yeah you might have been abandoned by your family but have YOU considered that this is letting me express all my mean girl energy off track so i am level-headed on track

maxverstappen1: actually i don't even think i'm being mean tbf

yourusername: i'm glad my suffering could be your therapy

carlossainz55: BOO HOO you're not suffering ... it's something called the consequences of your actions (read: actions being a snakey slut)

yourusername: bro over here acting like i committed fratricide

maxverstappen1: TAP ME IN

maxverstappen1: not this man talking about the consequences of actions. kids, here's a little life lesson: if you spend all your time at your current job talking about how you have a much better job waiting for you and how you're too big for this job and plant stories about your co-workers, you can't be surprised that that same job doesn't want to keep you

carlossainz55: i am better than charles

yourusername: lying is a sin

maxverstappen1: and you're going straight to hell

user121: you guys might be mourning the loss of charlos (whatever the fuck that is) but i'm celebrating the absolute shit ton of LESTAPPEN we're getting

user122: max was like oh my bff is dating charles here's my excuse to be nice about him again

user123: if we're being real here the biggest crime of this whole situation is the fact that charles can't really dig the knife in

user124: @ silvia i have maybe £4.50 and a greggs sausage roll to my name but PLEASE LET CHARLES TAP IN

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,298,006 others

tagged: oscarpiastri & carlossainz55

f1: f1... the sport that gives you just as much drama off track as we do on track!

view all comments

user125: at this point even before the whole carlos ousting his sister i think oscar was about 👌🏻 this close to rocking carlos nascar style we should let him do it

user126: i will personally pay his legal fees tbh

oscarpiastri: i'm only 23 i don't need two F1-related legal cases to my name

yourusername: i've watched legally blonde about ten billion times let me represent you

oscarpiastri: yeah sounds legit

user127: THAT'S IT WE NEED PROXIMITY CHAT IN F1

user128: the way we know there was a shit talking session like no other after this race

maxverstappen1: i don't kiss and tell but well - yes!

user128: okay since this is clearly a safe space... who was there please spill mr. verstappen

maxverstappen1: ME! charles, pierre, oscar, checo, alex and george!

user128: why the fuck were the last two there?

georgerussell63: i was on official GDPA duty 🤓

alexalbon: that's a lie we're just very nosey

yourusername: they're the biggest PTA moms ever don't even lie

georgerussell63: yes i'll make allergy friendly cupcakes for the bake sale but i'll also spit in them and gossip about your cheating husband - sorry about it!

alexalbon: he's not

georgerussell63: i'm not

user129: carlos slagging off y/n but she's really brought the grid together

user130: george and alex being like we do not care about that but we do want the latest scoop

alexalbon: oh don't get it twisted we're firmly team y/n

user131: we even got the f1 admin in on the drama

carlossainz55: she's probably fucking them as well

yourusername: BORING get a new bit babe

carlossainz55: if i see whore i'm going to say whore

yourusername: aren't you still in that damn stewards office?

carlossainz55: tell your little lap dog to keep his front wing away from my car and maybe i wouldn't

oscarpiastri: suck my dick

yourusername: now that's true poetry

user132: oH!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 763,409 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, logansargent & oscarpiastri

yourusername: florida !!!!!!!!!!! is one hell of a drug. no seriously what is in the water here i keep picking up these little guys everywhere i go

view all comments

user135: she's really like i AM spanish and i will colonise this grid

user136: stealing all the lil cuties for her cause

oscarpiastri: proud to be a part of this weird little circus thing we've got going on

yourusername: oh dibs on ring master

logansargent: i feel like my name is written all over tight rope walking

yourusername: okay yes skinny legend

maxverstappen1: obvs we're a cruelty free circus so no lions but if there were lions, that's me babe

maxverstappen1: SOME people could learn... cough, cough trophy hunters

charles_leclerc: idk i'll just take the one where i can sit there and be pretty

yourusername: and you would be the best at it

oscarpiastri: which one does the least? i'll take that one

user137: bro can we slow the fuck down i was just getting over osc telling carlos to suck his dick now we're talking CIRCUS?

user138: for real couldn't it have at least been cabaret i wanna see ALL of that

charles_leclerc: 🤨

carlossainz55: i think a circus is a perfect way to describe your desperate attempt to stay relevant

yourusername: don't you have a job to go to? oh wait...

carlossainz55: as if i'm threatened by a group with the likes of logan sargent in it

logansargent: bit harsh, i'm a nice guy (unlike some)

yourusername: carlos here's a little bit of a wild thing i'm about to introduce to you.... people have friends?

yourusername: also you WISH you had a face card like logie

carlossainz55: i have friends?

yourusername: no you have PR strategies, there's a difference

carlossainz55: bro learnt the word PR and ran with it

yourusername: tell me one person who would let you crash on their couch?

yourusername: QUICKLY.

fernandoalo_oficial: and don't even think about mentioning me

user139: she hit him with the bianca del rio

user140: OOP and also nando just popping up out of nowhere to diss carlos and never say anything again

charles_leclerc: the drug in question being puppy fever

maxverstappen1: tell me you didn't get a dog

yourusername: boy do i have news for you

carlossainz55: are you trying to baby trap him

yourusername: first woman in history to birth a dog you heard it here first

charles_leclerc: you simply can't be babytrapped when you would literally jump off a bridge if asked to

user141: @myboyfriend TAKE NOTES HONEY ^^^

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,745,093 others

tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc: two kids in one month? someone stop us

view all comments

user142: y/n really lost an apartment and a brother and gained about 27 f1 drivers and a dog

user143: glow up of the century some might say

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername: soz it's a coping mechanism

charles_leclerc: and that's okay <3

maxverstappen1: anything to help with that emotional CONSTIPATION

yourusername: have you tried to live with those narcissistic and emotionally unavailable men?

maxverstappen1: you're asking the wrong person that question honey

yourusername: girl are WE good?

maxverstappen1: no

yourusername: BUT THAT'S OKAY

charles_leclerc: not to rain on this parade but i think therapy would really be a positive move here

user144: i feel bad for charles cause i know these hoes are the type to just tell each other EXACTLYYYYY when they make poor decisions

maxverstappen1: true, no smart bitches would let their bff live with THAT man

yourusername: and let their bff constantly chat shit and ruin their image

maxverstappen1: can't ruin my image if i'm spitting FACTS

user145: max will nawt let this go

maxverstappen1: i'll forget you but i'll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived

yourusername: GIRL

maxverstappen1: whoops, one sec. spoiler alert: y/n unleased poetry. trigger warning: c*rlos s*inz

olliebearman: ollie bearman erasure

charles_leclerc: GASP OLLIE I AM SO SORRY

yourusername: no he actually is he's crying

charles_leclerc: it's the pregnancy hormones

olliebearman: it's okay i swear

charles_leclerc: I'M A TERRIBLE FATHER

carlossainz55: i could've told you that for free

olliebearman: why are you in our family buisness

user146: charles is channelling all of his carlos rage through ollie oh my

olliebearman: i am a happy conduit for my father who is in the ferrari PR jail

yourusername: can we send carlos here and throw away the key?

user147: charles is really out there like keep my girl's name out of your mouth cause even the bitch who stole your seat for a weekend is my SON

user148: y/n wasn't joking about with this grid domination

user149: but also i'm glad all of this fun stuff is happening amongst all of the shit that's been thrown at her from her family

oscarpiastri: a leclerc and proud (i race like my dad and throw shade like my mum)

yourusername: the best way to be

charles_leclerc: proud of you, you're such a good dog brother :)

oscarpiastri: i've just learnt to be patient after alpine and lando

yourusername: you still took your shoes being leo's personal bathroom really well

oscarpiastri: he's too cute to be mad at

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, charles_leclerc and 824,109 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: first mother's day with my boys

view all comments

user150: gonna enjoy this super wholesome post before... he... ruins it

user151: manifesting a y/n post without that bitter old hag in the comment section

charles_leclerc: the best mother for our fur baby and our miscellaneous other children

yourusername: only the best with you :(

charles_leclerc: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: i love you even more

user152: they're so fucking cute

user153: damn carlos i too would be angry if my baby sister and my teammate outshined my third PR relationship in six months

user154: the sainz family have generational levels of hating, but one does it for good (poetry) and one does it for bad (anything carlos ever says)

oscarpiastri: happiest mother's day to my grid mum! here's to reading them to filth xx

yourusername: OSC!! i always knew you were my favourite aussie

danielricciardo: did my enchante PR mean nothing?

yourusername: i mean i wear it all of the time... but it's osc ...

danielricciardo: true, i broke my hand before i could even think of accidentally hurting him

user155: also babe is looking so unbothered, moisturised and free we need the skin care routine

oscarpiastri: the tears of carlos sainz

yourusername: and cleansing your life of toxic family members

user156: okay clearly oscar was done with the whole "i'm so chill" bit cause since his adoption by charles and y/n he's been non stop on carlos' neck

oscarpiastri: i'm a ride or die for my mum cry about it

maxverstappen1: as the kids would say ... mother is mothering? @olliebearman did i do it right?

charles_leclerc: stop trying to steal my kids

maxverstappen1: BRO I'M TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOUR GIRLFRIEND

charles_leclerc: that's literally my job 🤨

yourusername: tbf i'll take as many compliments as i can

charles_leclerc: are mine not enough?

yourusername: when you've got a self esteem this low, you gotta take what you can get

charles_leclerc: oh :(

user157: max and y/n fighting over who trauma dumps more about their upbringing

carlossainz55: this bit is very tiring. you'll be a terrible mother and all these people you think are your friends will drop you as soon as they know who you really are.

yourusername: you done?

carlossainz55: as you loveeeee to point out, i don't have much to lose anymore so i really wouldn't test me

yourusername: trying to make me homeless and stealing all of my money wasn't enough?

carlossainz55: charles will know the truth soon enough and you won't have us to come crying to

yourusername: i'll take those chances thank you

user158: hold ON what do you mean stole all her money

yourusername: i was never allowed my own bank account so all my earnings have gone to them!

user159: okay that's it WE RIDE AT DAWN

fin.

note: oh girl life has been BUSY!!! i just got a new job and have been looking desperately for a flat to move out to. also i've had family visiting and going here, there and everywhere. but i hope you enjoy! this was a lil more light-hearted lol (until the end) so enjoy the addition of the leclerc family lore xx

ALSO i wanted to say a massive THANK YOU FOR 6,000 FOLLOWERS love you all <3

taglist: @aadu2173@rhythmstars@kqliie@booksandflowrs@2bormaybenot @firelily-mimi @evie-119 @mehrsdigitaldiary @sltwins @bibissparkles @evans-dejong @eiaaasamantha @23victoria @halleest @venusacrossthestars @boywondrgrayson @rare2306 @charlesgirl16 @reguluscrystals @hiireadstuff @destinyg237 @mael1pastry @sweet-creature98 @changetyre @eclipsedcherry @its-elias-world @brune77e @exotic-iris13 @woozarts @alenix @minkyungseokie @sheridamn @boherahpsody @jaydaaasworld @e-nonsense @vogueprincess @loloekie @dckgzz @cluvsya @amberpanda99 @apollosfavkiddo @lyraconstellation @marshmummy @casperlikej @softtina @gabys-gabs @happyhoganluvr @sesamepancakes @mehrmonga @hdigditditdjgd @elijahslover @k4marina @velentine @callsignwidow @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @thetorturedblogger @bwormie @moldyshorts1997 @mellowarcadefun @ietss @cecedrake2217 @charllleclerc @golden-hoax @nikfigueiredo

2K notes · View notes

herasversion · 13 days

Text

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill.

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up.

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating.

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him.

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque.

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

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herasversion · 14 days

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like father like son

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herasversion · 15 days

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Hey I have this Charles x reader request in mind where they're in a backstreet relationship and someone is being rude to her while she's in Monaco? the rest of how the story goes is up to you:)

Protective Boyfriend Mode (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count : 2,8k

Dating Charles Leclerc in secret has its perks.

For starters, Y/N doesn’t have to dodge the metaphorical tomatoes hurled by the public just yet. The judgment, the microscopic scrutiny, and the sky-high expectations that come with being a WAG? She’s more than happy to keep those at bay for now.

Y/N doesn’t mind that the world has no clue she's dating Charles. What really counts is how he treats her when they’re away from prying eyes. Who needs the world to know when she gets the best version of him, away from the cameras and the chaos?

His family, of course, is in on the secret and backs her decision to stay incognito. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t need the publicity circus that would erupt if they went public. She enjoys her peaceful, average life, free from paparazzi ambushes and social media execution.

Sometimes, Y/N can’t help but indulge in a little harmless online stalking of Charles’ exes—Giada Gianni, Charlotte Siné, Alexandra Saint-Mleux. These women look like they’ve stepped straight out of a magazine cover, and she has zero shame in admitting it. Envy is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason, and let’s face it, she’s only human.

What really gets her is trying to figure out why on earth Charles latched onto her after dating these goddesses. It’s like he stepped out of a sleek Ferrari and decided to cruise around on a humble bicycle.

She swings between feeling like the luckiest girl alive and wondering if he might need a stronger prescription for his glasses. The whole situation leaves her scratching her head and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

────────────────────────────────────

Today, everything grated on her nerves. Her hair looks like it could fry chips. Her skin is dull enough to blend into the wallpaper. The toaster has chosen today of all days to go on strike. To top it off, her co-workers keep bombarding her with Teams calls without even checking if she’s available. If she could rate this day, it would get a solid 0 out of 10.

“Can this day get any worse?” she mutters to herself, glancing at her reflection. “Y/N, you’re one bad hair day away from looking like Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Her laptop buzzes with another Teams call. She groans and answers, forcing a smile. “Hi, Harvey. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Y/N! Quick question—”

“Harvey, quick question for you: Did you check if I’m available?”

“Uh, no?”

“Exactly, so please, next time, do me a solid and check if I'm available before hitting that call button, okay?”

Just then, her phone buzzes with a text from Charles.

“Hope your day’s going better than mine! My helmet decided to play hide and seek.”

She snickers and types back.

“At least your helmet’s hiding. The toaster just gave up on life.”

“I'm really sorry about your day, ma chérie. But I promise to make it better. I'll swing by your favorite bakery and bring back a ridiculous amount of cakes just for you.”

That earned a smile out of her. Trust Charles to know exactly what she needs.

As Y/N tries to shake off the day's frustrations, she decides to distract herself by scrolling through Instagram. Among the posts, one catches her eye—a recent upload from Jasmine Tookes, her celebrity crush since forever. Jasmine looks stunning, as always, flaunting a gorgeous Yves Saint Laurent bag in cherry red that's absolutely to die for.

Y/N can practically feel the allure of the bag through the screen, and an idea sparks in her mind. The YSL boutique is just a short walk away.

“Maybe a little retail therapy is just what I need to salvage this day,” she muses aloud.

Without giving it a second thought, she grabs her purse and heads out the door.

────────────────────────────────────

As Y/N steps into the YSL boutique, she's greeted by the scent of a distinct perfume mingled with a hint of leather. The store is relatively empty, save for a few tourists browsing the shelves. Undeterred, Y/N scans the display case, her eyes searching for that coveted cherry-red bag she spotted on Jasmine Tookes' Instagram.

From her peripheral vision, she notices a couple of sales assistants giving her a once-over, but no one approaches her. She shrugs it off, relishing the freedom to browse at her own pace. Finally, she spots the bag she's been dreaming of and makes her way over to it.

“Excuse me,” she calls out to one of the nearby sales assistants politely. “Could you tell me about the stock availability and the price of this bag?”

The sales assistant approaches, but when she begins speaking in French, Y/N's heart sinks. She's not fluent in French, and she quickly apologizes, asking if they could switch to English instead.

There's a momentary hesitation from the sales assistant, who seems to be holding back an eye-roll, before reluctantly switching to English. The demeanor, however, turns chilly, and Y/N can't shake the feeling of being judged.

“I'm sorry, but that particular item is not available,” the sales assistant replies curtly, her tone dripping with condescension. “Perhaps you should try checking other stores that may be more suited to your purchasing ability.”

Y/N's cheeks flush with frustration, her jaw clenching as she tries to maintain her composure. She can't believe she's being treated this way in a store she loves. Taking a deep breath, she forces a polite smile, trying not to cause a scene.

“Excuse me,” she says as politely as she can muster, her voice trembling slightly. “May I ask what made you say that to me?”

The sales assistant's gaze hardens, her tone dripping with disdain. “Maybe you should look into a mirror and see your own appearance today.”

Y/N's eyes widen in disbelief. So what if she's just dressed in a plain t-shirt and linen pants? Is minimalism suddenly not cool anymore?

Y/N retorts, her voice edged with disbelief. “Are you seriously judging me based on how I look? Last time I checked, being a customer wasn't contingent on wearing a designer outfit.”

As she speaks, Y/N notices some discreetly filming tourists nearby, their expressions mirroring her shock and disbelief. She feels a surge of vindication knowing she's not the only one appalled by the sales assistant's behavior.

Y/N's fists clench tighter at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she struggles to contain her rising anger. The sales assistant's dismissive wave and condescending tone only serve to fuel the fire burning within her.

“Madame, this is a respected establishment,” the SA says, her voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “Please take your leave.”

Y/N's jaw tightens, her frustration reaching its peak. She opens her mouth to retort, to unleash the torrent of words building up inside her, but then she stops. What's the point? Arguing with someone who clearly lacks any sense of professionalism would only waste her energy.

With a deep breath to steady herself, Y/N turns on her heel and strides out of the store, her head held high despite the humiliation burning in her chest. She refuses to let this one encounter ruin her day, but she also knows she won't be returning to that boutique anytime soon.

────────────────────────────────────

By the time Charles arrived home, juggling two bulging shopping bags filled with an assortment of delectable cakes, he could practically taste the sour mood emanating from Y/N. Despite her attempts to shrug off whatever had bothered her, Charles refused to let it slide.

He set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, his brow furrowed in concern as he approached Y/N. “Hey, bébé , what's wrong?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Y/N forced a tight smile, trying to brush off his concern. “Oh, it's nothing, Charles. Just a little hiccup. Not worth your energy, really.”

But Charles wasn't about to let it go that easily. He could sense her distress, and he wasn't one to stand idly by when someone he cared about was upset.

Before he could press further, Charles' phone rang, signaling an incoming text message. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced at the screen, seeing the name Lorenzo flashing across it. The text sounded urgent, almost concerned, and Charles felt a knot form in his stomach as he read the words: “You need to see this.”

Curiosity mingled with dread as Charles opened the message, his heart sinking as he watched the video attached to it. There, playing out on his phone screen, was footage taken by a tourist earlier at the YSL store. His jaw clenched in anger as he watched Y/N being treated with such disrespect, her humiliation on full display for the world to see.

He curses under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides as he paces back and forth in the living room. His mind racing with thoughts of how to address the situation.

Charles then gently takes Y/N's hands in his own, his expression softening with concern as he looks into her eyes. “Why didn't you tell me about this right away?”

Y/N's smile falters slightly, and he can see the sadness lurking behind her eyes, but she quickly masks it with a playful tone. “Ah, you know me, always trying to avoid unnecessary drama,” she says, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. “Besides, sometimes people are just assholes, right?”

Her attempt at humor falls a bit flat, and Charles can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being there to protect her. He squeezes her hands gently, his voice filled with determination. “You shouldn't have to deal with this alone, Y/N. I'm here for you.”

Y/N gives him a small, grateful smile, but he can tell she's still trying to downplay the situation. “Hey,” she says, her tone lightening, “at least people will think it's just a video of some random person being treated badly in a luxury brand store. They won't know it's Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, right? So, let's just let it go and move on.”

She tries to lighten the mood with a joke, but Charles can sense the underlying tension beneath her words. He knows she's just trying to protect him from the inevitable media storm that would follow if the video gained more traction.

But Charles can't shake the feeling of anger and frustration bubbling inside him. He wants to defend her honor, to make sure she never has to endure such treatment again.

Reluctantly, he nods, forcing a small smile of his own. “Okay chérie. Let's just focus on enjoying these cakes, shall we?”

────────────────────────────────────

The very next day, unbeknownst to Y/N, Charles decides to pay a visit to the YSL store. With a determined look in his eyes, he discreetly asks for the service of the sales assistant who humiliated Y/N.

Colette, the SA in question, practically beams with excitement and arrogance when she learns that Charles Leclerc has requested her personally. Straightening her posture, she approaches him with an air of self-importance.

“How may I be of service, Monsieur Leclerc?” Colette asks, her tone laced with enthusiasm.

Pathetic. Charles thought to himself.

He adopts a casual demeanor, pretending to browse the store as if looking for a gift for his girlfriend. “I'm looking for something special for my girlfriend,” he says casually, noting the way Colette's eyes light up at the mention of his romantic status.

Colette tries to contain her excitement, feigning nonchalance as she responds, “Oh, I wasn't aware you had a new girlfriend since your breakup with Alexandra Saint-Mleux. She is also a regular customer here.”

Charles decides to play along, a dangerous glint in his eye as he says, “Yes, my current girlfriend is a very private person. She prefers to stay out of the spotlight.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Colette can't help but ask, “May I see a picture of her? Just in case she happens to come by, I'd love to be able to assist her.”

Charles smirks inwardly, knowing this is his moment to turn the tables. “Sure, why not?” he replies, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his gallery.

As he shows Colette a picture of himself and Y/N together, he watches with satisfaction as the color drains from her face, her eyes widening in shock and recognition.

Colette's apologies pour out in a torrent, her voice trembling as she stammers out excuses. “I-I had no idea, Monsieur Leclerc! If I had known, I would never have acted that way. Please, forgive me!”

Charles maintains a cool and collected demeanor, but his words are razor-sharp as he addresses Colette. “Your behavior reflects poorly on the brand,” he says icily, his tone dripping with disdain. “Perhaps they should consider terminating your employment for such unprofessional conduct.”

Charles's threat hangs in the air like a storm cloud, and Colette's eyes widen in alarm as she realizes the gravity of her mistake. She scrambles to salvage the situation. “Monsieur Leclerc, please, I assure you, this is not how we typically treat our customers. I'm deeply sorry for any inconvenience I've caused.”

But Charles remains unmoved, his defensive stance unwavering as he delivers his next line with a sharp edge. “I suggest you think twice before treating customers so disrespectfully in the future,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Colette can only nod, her eyes downcast in shame as she mumbles yet another apology.

Seeing the tension escalate, the store manager, who has been discreetly observing the commotion, rushes over to where they are. He offers his own profuse apologies, his tone filled with urgency. “Monsieur Leclerc, I am terribly sorry for the behavior of my staff. This is unacceptable, and I assure you, Colette will be disciplined for her actions.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Disciplined, you say? Well, I suppose that's a start. But perhaps I should take my business elsewhere, like Dior or Chanel.”

The store manager's eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion of losing such a high-profile customer. “No, Monsieur Leclerc, please, we value your patronage! I assure you, this will not happen again. Please, allow us to make it right.”

Charles offers a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate your swift action, but I do hope this serves as a lesson for your staff moving forward.”

He then gestures towards the display. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to purchase the bag my girlfriend had her eye on.”

The store manager nods hurriedly, signaling to a nearby assistant to fetch the bag. As they scurry to fulfill Charles' request, the manager returns with a bouquet of peonies wrapped elegantly.

“Please accept these peonies as a gesture of our sincere apology,” the manager says, offering the flowers to Charles. “We hope this helps to make amends for the madame.”

Charles accepts the bouquet with a nod. “Thank you,” he says, his tone clipped. “I'm sure my girlfriend will appreciate the thoughtfulness. She's far more forgiving than I am, fortunately for you.”

────────────────────────────────────

Y/N is furiously typing away on her laptop when the front door swings open. She squints at the figure entering the room, only to catches sight of her boyfriend holding something suspiciously behind his back.

“Baby, what are you up to now?” she teases, a grin spreading across her face.

He feigns innocence. “Oh, just a little surprise for my favorite woman.”

Y/N's eyes sparkle with anticipation as she eagerly stands up, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, do tell!”

In a dramatic motion, Charles presents her with the unmistakable YSL bag. Y/N's jaw practically hits the floor as she exclaims, “Oh, no, you didn't!”

Charles chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. “Oh yes, I did, chérie. And just wait until you see what's inside!”

Excitedly, Y/N opens the bag, her eyes widening in awe as she pulls out the coveted item. She tries it on with exaggerated walk, striking poses as if she's on a runaway.

Charles watches her with a mixture of adoration and amusement, his heart swelling with love for this wonderful person.

But then, amidst her excitement, Y/N's expression turns serious as she asks about the sales assistant.

Charles adopts a mock serious tone, his eyebrows shooting up in faux concern. “Well you know, she's just taking a little timeout to contemplate the error of her ways.” he replies, his gaze flickering with a hint of satisfaction.

Y/N's eyes widen in surprise, but before she can inquire further, Charles pulls her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

“And also,” Charles adds, “they threw in some peonies.”

“Peonies? Are they trying to bribe me with flowers now?”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, considering the ordeal you went through, I'd say they owe you a bouquet or two.”

Y/N playfully rolls her eyes. “I hope they at least remembered to include a card with a heartfelt apology from the SA.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You mean the 'Sorry we were jerks, here are some flowers' card?”

They both dissolve into laughter, the absurdity of the situation not lost on them. It's moments like these that make even the most frustrating experiences worth it.

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herasversion · 16 days

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oscar wanting to meet leo "if he can pop to mclaren" is so funny because of course oscar can't pop to ferrari - there's a man who wants him dead

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herasversion · 17 days

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Childhood Rivals - MV1/CL16

VERY DARK FIC 18+ - Minors DNI- if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS

Summary: Max and Charles have fought each other on track for years. But off track no one knows that they share a secret and they have since their teen years.

READ THESE Themes/warnings: MFM, long-term relationship, forced relationship, physical aggressive, smut (dub-con), cockwarming

No part 2 requests please

Y/n is smothered with love when it comes to her childhood friends otherwise known to the wider majority as the golden boys of F1. Red Bull's reigning champion and Ferrari's child born and bred for red.

In truth, it took a long time and some force but she loves them now.

It all started in 2014, well that's when they decided to basically take her and share her. Before that things were even more complicated and messy but it was in Max's F3 season and when Charles was in Formula Renault that they seemed to find some sort of arrangement. Her parents encouraged her to date one of the other, not even sure which driver she was with and seeming to not care because they both were going on to lead a life of wealth.

Y/n had been the daughter of one of the karting championships owners and she befriended the two boys. She had no idea it would come with a cost later.

They disguise y/n as a friend of both of them in the paddock, no PDA and no conversations. They've practically painted her a mute to the rest of the drivers and anyone else in the teams. Although in some ways it's not far from the truth, sometimes she's sure she doesn't talk at all until it's just her and one or both of the drivers.

"Hey. Can you get your head out the clouds?" Max grumbles making her look away from the private jet window.

"Sorry." Y/n mumbles then noticing him hold out his hand and she gets up moving over to him, stopping in front of him as her gaze flicks over to Charles who is sleeping soundly. "How long till we land?"

"Long enough."

They seem to hate giving her direct answers, she could ask what colour the sky is and they'd tell her it depends on the time of day.

Y/n finds herself sliding down on his dick as they continue the conversation moving onto a different topic away from the flight to Australia.

"You know, it's been over 10 years and I'll never get tired of you." Max smiles lightly as she leans forward trying not to wince at the angle somehow pushing him deeper.

Has it really been 10 years? She feels so young and yet nearly half her life has seen her at the mercy and under the control of the same two men.

Max keeps talking till she's in the depth of sleep, his voice and yapping being a perfect lullaby.

Once they're in the hotel both drivers decide to do exactly what they always like to do. Bless the room.

"I'm tired." Y/n mumbles trying to put off sex with both her boyfriends because they enjoy a game of, who can break her and make her used the safe word. Despite their questionable morals. If she taps out then they will stop. But if she doesn't then it just about stops when they decide they're done or on the rare occasion when she passes out.

"Y/n." Charles states in a tone that could cut diamonds.

"Ah, Charlie be nice. If she's tired we can make it quick. Can't we, y/n?" Max smiles and someone with no experience of Max, might mistake this as sincerity or genuine care.

But quick only means that they show her no mercy in favour of seeking their own please and while she might be able to handle one man wanting to be quick. Handling both is another issue.

"I'm not that tired." Y/n mumbles trying to recover and avoid what might already be inevitable.

"Of course you are, don't lie." Max states making her swallow thickly.

"I-"

"-Quick. Then you can sleep." Max cuts in. Lesson learned, don't say you're tired unless you're prepared for that will follow.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Y/n mumbles with a nod.

It takes a minute for her to find herself leaning over between Max's legs while Charles it behind her.

At least they're not pushing for both at once in other ways.

Her hesitance doesn't stop her from being quite easily turned on by the manhandling from both men and while she wishes she wasn't adapt to their treatment meaning her body reacts to their touch exactly how they want her to.

She bites back a moan feeling Charles push into her with ease making her head drop for a moment before she takes a few seconds to adjust to his size before placing her tongue against Max's tip guiding it down to the back of her throat.

As expected she feels Charles set a bruising pace and Max takes control of her pace pushing himself down her throat beyond what she'd consider is the deepest she can force herself. Despite her lack of control, there's no surprise for her when she feels her tummy starting to tense a little as she moans around Max's dick making him groan pushing her head further down.

Her body absolutely betrays her as she tenses up around Charles feeling Max cum down her throat when she tenses feeling Charles speed up in some sloppy thrusts pushing almost impossible deeper and much harder before spilling into her.

Y/n actually is so tired that neither are surprised when she climbs up and drops her weight down on Max.

Y/n walks into the paddock with Charles whispering to him in conversation before she silences herself when Pierre appears walking along side him then leaning over and smiling at y/n.

"Hey, y/n." Pierre greets earning a small wave.

Pierre has actually known y/n just as long as Charles and Max. He saw the change and he hasn't comments to anyone but Charles but he sometimes does wonder what happened. He knows that Charles and y/n are more than friends but he doesn't know that Charles shares her with Max.

They talk for a bit before Charles gently pushes y/n into the Ferrari unit with maybe a bit more force than necessary.

"Ow." Y/n mumbles when they're inside and Charles has hold of her wrist.

Both Max and Charles sometimes forget their own strength with her but she is pulled into his drivers room and sighs softly.

"What is wrong with you?" Charles asks making her shake her head and force a small smile, she learned a long time ago small smiles are believable, forced toothy smiles just seem to trigger annoyance.

"Nothing is wrong." Y/n states watching him move over and kiss her forehead and then he goes in for a proper kiss only for her to flinch away. "I lied."

"You lied?" Charles frowns on the thin line between confusion and anger.

"I don't feel well." Y/n admits making Charles take a moment looking at her.

"You don't feel well?"

"My stomach hurts." Y/n admits earning a frown from the Ferrari driver before he gently touches her forehead.

"You are warm, but-you can stay in here and rest." Charles decides not looking very happy about it but he doesn't say anything else.

"Ok." Y/n nods then biting her lip. "Should I text Max and tell him?"

Charles and Max don't really cross paths on Thursdays unless very briefly but they make sure to never be caught publicly speaking about y/n by others in such a way that looks suspicious.

"Yes. Text him. He might want you with him for the day but you're staying here and tell him I told you so if he questions why." Charles states making her nod. "Do you need anything else? I can get you some water and snacks to see if that helps. You had breakfast with Max yes?"

"Yes."

Despite Charles' instructions, Max managed to send Rupert into the Ferrari unit for y/n and since he doesn't do nearly as much media in Imola as the Ferrari drivers. He decided she needed to be with him.

"You need to eat." Max declares walking in with food with makes her wince. "What?"

"Charles made me eat."

"You can eat some more. I want to see you eat." Max states placing the pizza down in front of her while she looks at it with sad eyes. "Y/n."

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm eating." Y/n states picking up the food and managing to take a bite that does make her stomach settle a little more.

"Will you stop pouting like I'm abusing you? It's food, not a knife at your throat." Max huffs then sighing. "Eat. Then we're leaving for the day. I'm done for the day and you clearly don't want to be here. Charles wanted you to go on the track walk and be with him but instead you find any excuse to get out of it."

"I do want to be here."

Max mutters what she recognises as some colourful Dutch words that she doesn't need a translator to understand.

"I'm sorry. I'll-I'll stay and I'll make it up to Charles." Y/n tries but Max raises his hand.

"Don't you can apologise later." Max states making her lip tremble. "Finish eating, y/n."

Although he's angry, y/n seems to put his emotions at bay by finishing the pizza and getting them out of the paddock, seemingly the first driver to leave and to no ones surprise y/n is there even though she arrived with Charles.

Charles does appear in the hotel room and despite him apparently annoyed or upset, the Tifosi has risen his spirits enough that when he sees y/n he isn't so annoyed. Though she's asleep, nudged awake by Max who she'd cuddled into.

"She is warm." Max comments as y/n sluggishly mumbles and whines for Charles to sit down next to her.

"Still not feeling well?" Charles asks but she ignores the question having tiredly remembered the instructions Max gave in order to make it up to the Ferrari driver.

She manages a few grinds down on him till he's hard enough for her to lift enough to pull him out then tiredly slide down on him as she feels Max push her hair back from her face when she goes to rest her face in neck.

"What y/n means is. No she still doesn't feel well." Max mutters not sounding impressed but Charles pats him. "I'm going on the sim since you're back. You got her?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Charles nods then readjusting their position a little earning a whine. "Hey, you are the one who left early. You are only getting away with it for now because you are not well."

694 notes · View notes

herasversion · 17 days

Text

ੈ✩‧ war time leclerc (smau) ੈ✩‧

pairing : charles leclerc x fem reader

summary : snippets of the priavte relationship of Lord Perceval

a/n : LEO’S DAD - anyways enjoy ! also feel free to drop in a request or a qestion !

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by ynbff, lordperceval, jrchilli, and 89 others

y/n.jpg Mornings when mr. Leclerc is sleeping 💪🏻

view comments

lando.jpg YOU COPIED MY USERNAME

y/n.jpg SO DID DANIEL daniel.jpg SO DID LANDO y/n.jpg mate… lando.jpg mate ….

pierreneedsgas which book are you reading ?

y/n.jpg 69 ways to steal kika 🪽 frankika baby i am already yours ~🫶🏻 pierreneedsgas babe, you coffee is ready ☕️

mercedesgeorge who clicked the first pic if charles is sleeping 👀

y/n.jpg my side chick

lordperceval MON AMOUR ❤️

lordperceval L’ AMOUR DE MA VIE 💙

lordperceval ELLE EST JOLIE 🩷

lordperceval ELLE EST A MOI 💛

albono pls calm him @ y/n.jpg

lilyhye let him do the bf spam ! ITS CUTE ! y/n.jpg @ albono start taking some tips

liked by ynbff, lordperceval, jrchilli, and 72 others

y/n.jpg first pic is solely for scientific purpose, second pic is couple goals and third pic is for communtiy goals

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lordperceval SHE SLIPPED IN THE SECOND PIC 🪽🪽

y/n.jpg this means war you little monagasque

lordperceval i certainly am not little from any side my love ❤️

lando.jpg should we just let them be -

daniel.jpg yes 🙌🏻 maximillian yes 🙌🏻 frankika yes 🙌🏻 pierreneedsgas yes 🙌🏻 albono yes 🙌🏻 lilyhye yes 🙌🏻 mercedesgeorge yes 🙌🏻

y/n.jpg can yall comment normally for once

daniel.jpg couple goals 🙌🏻

maximillian tons of love 🤍

pierreneedsgas GORG!!!

albono MAN IS 🔥

mercedesgeorge 🔥🔥

frankika Skinacre tips charles !!

lilyhye OMG GOALS 💛

jrchilli best partner.

y/n.jpg way better 😀

liked by ynbff, lordperceval, lando.jpg and 76 others

y/n.jpg BBQ night sixth wheeling 🐒

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maximilian how is six wheeling possible !?

mercedesgeorge even i am wondering maximilian werent you present there !? y/n.jpg carmen and george 🙈 and two dudes fighting for carlos

jrchilli me!?

lando.jpg yes 🫷🏻 lordperceval yes 🫷🏻

y/n.jpg also @ lord perceval you are sleeping on the couch, the war is still on

pierreneedsgas taking out the car 🚗

frankika preparing the knife 🗡️

albono buying bullets 🔫

lilyhye buying gun 🔫

mercedesgeorge buying cleaning detergent 🧴

oscar buying cleaning cloth 🧽

maximilian buying garbage bag 🪣

lordperceval what’s all this shopping ?

hamsandwich for your death and burial

y/n.jpg MR HAMILTON YOU USE INSTAGRAM ?

1K notes · View notes

herasversion · 17 days

Text

White Wings – CL16

charles leclerc x fem!bakery!reader

When a new ice cream shop next door ends up threatening the very existence of your family’s bakery, you find yourself faced with a lot of difficult decisions. Decisions that, in no small part, revolve around the man who just might be your guardian angel.

everybody say thank you @m0cha-bunny 🤍 her mind is truly one of the greatest of our generation.

content warnings: descriptions of feeding birds and birds touching you (maybe skip this one if you’re afraid of them), financial insecurity, mentions of alcohol, also yes I know LEC isn't going to have a physical location it's fine just let him have his Hallmark movie moment.

word count: 5.9k

The alarm clock next to your bed reads 03:31 as you smack it, missing a few times, in an attempt to make the beeping sound stop. Your face scrunches as you stretch, savoring the warmth of your bed for a few more seconds before dragging yourself out from under the lush blankets and pillow-y duvet. Pulling on the fluffy slippers that sat by the side of your bed, you yawned slightly and walked to your bathroom to get ready for the day.

The cold water sobered you as you washed your face, blood rushing to your cheeks in response to the bracing temperature. Patting your face dry with a plush towel, you looked at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath. Only a handful of hours until you’d close the shop for your usual afternoon break. The afternoon break when you could take your usual afternoon nap which you always so looked forward to. You smiled at the thought of curling up under the mountain of warm blankets on your bed once more.

In the meantime, however, you needed to get started on work. You slipped into a pair of dark jeans and a light blue t-shirt which you covered with an old crew neck sweatshirt. One whose sleeves never budged when you rolled them up.

Hurriedly securing your hair into a mess on top of your head, you headed up the narrow staircase that led to the roof of the building. The same building that your grandfather used to own but was forced to sell due to a series of family emergencies. You were grateful that the new owners had allowed you to stay for all these years, renting out the space that you needed to live and keep the bakery running.

Part of you wished that the residents you were heading up to check on would pay their fair share of rent, but they had belonged to your grandfather, so none of your family really had the heart to get rid of them. Since you were the only one to still live in the building, they had fallen under your charge. You changed quickly into the old pair of rubber boots that you kept at the top of the stairwell before stepping out onto the rooftop. The early morning air was cool as it greeted your face and the lights of the city glinted around you, making it feel as though you stood in the midst of your own little galaxy. Opening the trap to the loft, fixing it in place so that the birds could leave when they awoke, you glanced inside. All you could make out in the soft darkness of the early morning were the faint, fuzzy-edged outlines of their perfectly white bodies—one on each perch, with their beaks tucked snugly into their puffed feathers.

You always let them have some free time in the morning before calling them back in for breakfast once you had finished baking. For now, you'd let them sleep.

As you ran back downstairs, you ran through the morning's schedule in your head: pastry dough that needed to be cut and shaped, tea cake batter that needed to be prepared, bread dough that needed to be pulled from the refrigerators, etc. Oven temperatures and orders of operation danced through your head as you pulled your apron over your head and washed your hands once more out of habit.

Hours later and morning's baking was finally finished. Moving yesterday's pastries to the side of the case to be sold at half price, you carefully arranged everything: puffed pastries on the right along with the sfogliatelle which...no, those still needed powdered sugar..., small fruit tarts and perfect slices of cake a bit to the left, several French tea cakes and financiers topped with perfect rows of buttercream on the other side, followed by the macarons and other small gems. The various breads were tucked into their respective baskets along the wall before you flipped the sign next to the door to read that the shop was open. Your watch read 07:57.

Customers began filtering in and you exchanged gracious smiles and polite comments about the weather and your health.

It wasn't long before your favorite customers walked through the door. It had started when Kika discovered your shop about a year prior and the two of you had quickly grown close. When she wasn't traveling for work or leisure, the model would come by three or four times per week. She brought her boyfriend along with her when he was in town. You always enjoyed when the two (sometimes three) of you would sip coffee together, chatting about the latest gossip and snippets of your personal lives. Not that you didn't like your other customers, but your friends were typically only over at your place for girls’ nights or intimate dinners before nights out, and the routine was nice.

After sliding a few of the pastries onto a couple plates and thanking Kika for the coffee she always brought you from the coffee shop near her apartment, you noticed that she and Pierre were looking at you somewhat expectantly.

"So... are you excited?" Pierre asked after a second of silence.

"About what?" You ask as you finish taking a sip from your coffee, cherishing the rich flavor of the espresso.

Kika furrowed her brow slightly.

"The new ice cream shop that's opening next door to you?" She asked, before continuing, "we know the owner, we think the two of you will get along quite well!"

You note the somewhat devious smile she has before glancing at Pierre, whose expression is similar, and rolling your eyes. You knew you couldn't stop them as they began rattling off all the features about this shop-owner friend of theirs that you would find attractive. They left out the Formula One aspect of his career…personality…life.

"You two HAVE to stop trying to set me up. I promise you, I'm fine!"

The pair give you a loving, but incredulous look.

"But" you continue, trying to move past the subject with a shrug, "no, I haven't heard...maybe it will be good for business."

Kika nodded wisely and gave you a wink as she took a bite out of her croissant. You asked about their plans for the weekend, and the conversation finally moved on. You hadn't moved on from the idea of the ice cream shop, however, not in your head anyways. The shop space next door to yours had been vacant for a long time. When you were little, you remembered that it used to belong to a cobbler, but after he passed, it seemed as though no store that moved into the space would last longer than a few months to a year. Part of you couldn't help but hope that this fate wouldn't befall the apparently very handsome owner of the ice cream shop.

You were less enthusiastic when the shop actually opened.

Sure, the place was packed with people—you weren’t entirely sure why since the ice cream was already sold in grocery stores—but none of the ice cream shop’s popularity translated into foot traffic for your bakery. The mornings were still profitable, but with your afternoon and early evening crowd dwindling more and more (often turned-off from coming in due to the crowd around the shop next door) your margins had started to slip.

It was around 6:30 in the morning when you made your way up to the rooftop. You’d had to start cutting back on the number of pastries and breads that you baked to save a bit of money on supplies which gave you more time to spend with the pigeons.

Opening the bin of feed next to the loft, you scooped some of the grain into your hands. Whistling your usual long, even-toned call to the birds—the same Navy whistle that your grandfather had always used to call them—you were suddenly enveloped in the soft embrace of the birds’ wings brushing against you. Those who chose to eat from your hands pecked lightly against your palms as they scarfed down the grain, flapping lightly to keep their balance. Others landed around you and ate from their feeder on the ground; you shooed a few of them away from the grain bin when they tried to land inside to eat directly from the source.

In the wake of the ice cream shop opening, you’d found yourself spending more and more time with them—less enthusiastic to spend time baking when it was becoming increasingly difficult to pay your bills. Your family had helped some, but you didn’t like taking money from them.

The pigeons never offered you money, but they were good companions and quite friendly with you. A few of them had taken to hopping into your lap or onto your shoulder to nap while you sat in the lounge chair across from the loft to read in the afternoon. You liked the weight of them on you and the feeling of their warm little feet on your skin. Their sweet coos and the soft whistling of their wings were comforting and reminded you of the time you’d spent here in your childhood. It was nice and the most time you’d spent with them in a long time, besides, it took your mind off things.

While the owner of the building had been understanding about your situation, you could tell that his patience was beginning to run thin. The thought of losing the bakery and your apartment above it weighed heavy on your mind as you wiped the top of the display case. It was in the early afternoon on a Saturday. The bell above the door chimed, but you didn’t look up. The cup of coffee that was placed in front of your hand brought you back to reality. Kika’s face was creased with concern.

“What’s wrong?” She asked softly, turning to look at the sparse display. “What happened to everything? No more macarons or tea cakes?”

You sighed and met her gaze, shrugging.

“It’s the ice cream shop. It’s killed all my business. I make some money in the mornings, but” you look down with a tight-lipped expression, “it’s not enough.”

Her eyes were wide. “You won’t…lose the bakery, will you?” Her voice is quiet as she asked.

“I hope not, but…I just–I don’t know.”

You tell her about what your typical days look like now that you don’t get the afternoon and evening traffic that you used to, and how you wanted to talk about it with the owner of the ice cream shop but hadn’t had the chance since it seems as though he’s never there—at least not as far as you can tell. Kika didn’t stay long after buying a few of the pastries you had available, and you watched her make a phone call as she walked away from your shop. You checked your watch—11:26—she’d probably be your last customer of the day.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as you finished cleaning up.

A few days went by, but the situation hadn’t improved. You’d kept the shop’s hours the same in a desperate, and maybe naïve, hope that customers would still come in despite the line snaking from the ice cream parlor, but they never did.

Your eyes had bags under them when the door chimed one morning. You’d been up late the night before trying to crunch the numbers to make it all work—every equation ended with you in the red. When you look up from your newspaper at the customer who had just walked in, you were surprised that he wasn’t one of your regulars. The man was dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, his soft eyes tracing over the bakery until they met yours. You greeted him, folding the newspaper and asking how you could help him that morning.

“Are you the owner of this bakery?” He asked, his voice warm and somehow familiar.

“I am, yes. It’s belonged to my family for a long time.” You return with a kind smile, hoping the stranger can’t sense the pain behind it.

He hummed quietly for a moment as he looked across the items in the display case.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more to offer. Business has been…difficult with the ice cream shop opening next door.” You admit, feeling a bit ashamed of your unimpressive display, “I’ve had to cut back on the menu more than I'd like.”

His eyes flickered up from the pastries that sat between the two of you.

“How much for everything?”

“What?” You were taken off-guard.

“Everything you have. How much?” His gaze was unwavering.

“I–uh, I mean I’m not sure–”, your eyes were now wide, “that’s far too many things for one person–”

He shook his head gently—his eyes still fixed on yours—and a small smile crept onto his face.

“I will figure something to do with all of it, I have friends.”

You looked at him in a bit of shock before agreeing to the request—packing everything into an inordinate number of bags which he collected only somewhat precariously in his arms. He had insisted on buying all of your day-old goods at full price as well, and the sum total had been more money than you’d seen in a long time. You were grateful to the stranger, but the interaction had left you more than a bit confused as you tidied up the shop.

Since you were closed early, you decided to start preparations for the next morning so you could have the afternoon to yourself. Thoughts of the fluffy-haired stranger snuck into your mind as you did. Charles. That was the name on the card he used.

It was a nice name.

He had a nice face.

Charles was honestly a bit overwhelmed with the amount of baked goods he had crammed into his sports car as he drove to his friend's apartment.

"Mate, you will not believe what I have just done." He said over the phone on his way there. "No–no, hey that was one time–" he countered against the disparaging remarks from his friend before explaining his situation.

He had intended on only stopping by to get something as a courtesy and chat with you about the impact his business was having on yours. Ever since he'd gotten the call from Pierre with the accusation that there was some girl in Milan whose life he was supposedly ruining, Charles had been a bit apathetic towards this "girl". Until he learned that the girl was you. He wasn't sure what had come over him when he saw you standing there: your chin resting on your hand, your eyes glancing lazily across the newspaper that was splayed out over the counter, your lip pulled slightly into your mouth as you chewed on it in boredom. But he had felt immediately drawn to you, captivated by your kind smile and even-keeled demeanor.

Those feelings were not made any better as he sunk his teeth into one of the pastries. The confection cracked and flaked with each bite, bits of it falling haphazardly across his friend’s kitchen counter. He didn’t care. The fact that your hands had crafted this masterpiece…he couldn’t help but close his eyes to enjoy the taste.

Sitting on the balcony a few hours later, surrounded by the friends and friends of friends who had been invited over to help take care of the pastries and cakes and other goods, Charles realized that the bread you made was somehow even better than everything he’d had before. He thought of you as he ate it, how you would have looked as you kneaded the dough: folding its soft body with your hands and handling it firmly but with care. As he looked out across the city, he tried to pinpoint where your bakery was from where he sat.

He knew he had to go back.

He also knew that he had to come clean.

It was early in the morning the next day when he returned to your shop. He had been nervous on the drive over and his hands were still a bit clammy as he opened the door, the bell above it ringing in a friendly chime when he did. He smiled as he made eye contact with you.

"Oh god, please don't buy everything again." You laughed as you recognized him.

Charles shook his head.

"No, no. As much as I'd like to, I will admit that it was a bit too much."

He was smiling, but you could see that something serious was on his mind–glancing back at the door behind him before looking back at you.

"Listen, I need to be honest with you," he started, breaking his gaze from yours and looking to the floor, "I own the ice cream shop next door. Yesterday I– I wanted to speak with you about it since my uh...colleague, Pierre, told me–"

He had only been talking for a moment, but your brows were now thoroughly knitted together.

"Wait, Pierre?" You interrupted him. Now slightly hurt that your friend, well boyfriend of a friend, would tell Charles—the cute stranger, who was also the cute ice cream shop owner, and colleague? of Pierre’s? —about your financial struggles.

Charles' expression was grave as he looked at you, he knew you had been struggling and now he'd hurt you even more by not being honest the day before. He knew that any more dancing around the truth would have the same painful effect.

"Yes, I am also a Formula One driver. That's–that's how I know him."

He didn't look at you as he said it, but when he met your gaze a second later, you knew that your eyes must have seemed cold.

Everything was clicking together in your head. Kika and Pierre had never divulged how they knew the owner of the ice cream shop, but it made sense now why they hadn't told you. The worst of it was that you were still weeks late on your rent because of the new shop and a Formula One driver was the owner no less. You didn't follow the sport much besides the things Kika would tell you when Pierre was away at a race, but what you did know was that the man who stood before you was surely worth millions upon millions of euros...while you were forced to accept hand-outs from your family.

You didn't know what to say. Charles was still standing there, watching you with what seemed to be an almost pleading look.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, I know that this is all my fault." He said, gesturing toward the wall that separated the two shops.

It was true, but you didn't know what to say besides ‘yes, it is your fault' or 'I know, and I'm about to lose the bakery because of you', since any variation of that sentiment felt too cruel. You had turned your gaze to the floor. The two of you were silent for a moment.

"I want to help."

This got your attention.

"Charles, you–"

"No. Please, l–" His glance darted about the bakery as he searched for the right words.

Before he could speak again, the bell above the door rang behind him. The two of you looked to the fragile, old woman who had walked in.

It was Cosima, one of your regulars.

Charles stepped to the side, smiling as he greeted the nonna, telling her that he was still deciding and that she should order first.

Exchanging pleasantries with Cosima, you packed a small paper bag with the same pastries and bread that she bought every week—the same that she had bought for the last forty years. When she asked if Charles was a friend of yours, you traded a hurried look with the man before affirming her assumption with a kind smile. She hummed approvingly at your response and winked at you as she handed over the money (as well as one of the hard candies she always slipped you when she paid for her things).

"Ciao ciao nonnina." You said sweetly as she turned to leave, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you thought of her having to go somewhere else for her beloved pastries.

You'd waited until Cosima was out of sight before continuing the conversation for privacy, but Charles now turned to face you.

"I don't want your help." You said bluntly as your eyes met his blue ones.

"I'm sure you don't, but I cannot let you lose your bakery."

"Well..." you were bad at accepting help, but you appreciated that he seemed to actually care, "buy something then."

Charles recognized the peace offering and picked out a number of items—still too many for just himself, but not your entire stock this time. It was the least that he could do on both fronts.

He came in the following day, and then the next, and then any time he could manage in spite of his busy schedule. Whenever he was in town, and Kika wasn’t there to bring you coffee, you knew you could count on him to show up with two cups in his hands and that same, warm smile on his face. He always insisted on paying double for whatever he bought. It didn’t make a huge dent in your slim margins, but it still helped, and you didn’t mind the gesture.

Charles made sure that he didn’t spend too much time at the shop for fear of being spotted by fans, but today was different.

The shop was closed.

He didn’t understand. When he’d texted you asking about coffee, you’d said yes. Why would you say yes if the shop were closed? He pulled his phone from his pocket to call you.

“I am here but your shop is closed.”

“Charles, it’s always closed on Thursdays,” you laughed, putting your book down and removing the pigeon that was preening itself from your shoulder, “give me one moment and I’ll come open the door.”

Your footsteps were soft as you hurried down the narrow staircase, smiling at Charles when you turned the corner to face the glass door of the bakery. Sliding open the bolt, you opened the door and greeted him in French, gesturing for him to come inside as you did.

He looked a bit nervous, maybe apprehensive was a better word for it, but it was nice to have him here.

Charles had been in the shop countless times before but now was different. He was there truly as your friend and not as a customer. The empty pastry case and darkened shop still pulled at his heart as he followed you upstairs. The apartment above was light and airy, the morning light spilling through the curtains. Charles had wanted to help you keep the bakery before, but now he was determined. He knew that the bakery would be warm and filled with the smell of pastries and breads tomorrow, but he couldn’t stand the thought of it remaining the way it looked this morning on your day off.

When you turned to him to take the coffee he was holding out to you, his expression was soft, and his eyes hid the faintest hint of concern in their depths. He said your name quietly as your fingers brushed against his to take the cup, it never sounded so sweet, so delicate as the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” He asked after a pause. “I have all the money in the world.”

It was a valid question, one that you honestly didn’t have a legitimate answer to, but all you could offer was a brief shake of your head.

“Charles, I don’t want your money,” you said, reaching out to graze his hand with yours, “it wouldn’t feel right to take it.”

He searched your face in mild confusion, not understanding. The pain of this situation was blatantly clear even to him, but your continued refusal of extra checks, help on your bills, anything he could think of to help was…hard to understand.

“What would not be right is for your bakery to close.”

You let out a quiet huff as you considered his words. He was right and you knew that, but you didn’t want to talk about it.

“I’ll think about it Charles, I promise.”

The two of you spent the morning getting to know one another a bit better. When you finished the coffee and left-over pastries in your small dining room, you brought him up to the roof to meet the pigeons. He was a bit hesitant as you held his hand to pick one up, but he smiled when the bird settled on his arm. He trusted you the same way the bird now trusted him.

Looking out across the city together, you chatted about nothing important, eventually pointing out various buildings that you admired to one another and laughing about how different his life could have been if he hadn’t become an F1 driver.

He reminded you of your promise to him as he left, and you were brought back into the reality of your situation. The time you spent in his company had been a nice distraction.

The bakery’s finances continued to deteriorate.

You weren’t returning Charles’ texts or calls. You’d given him a key to the bakery in case anything happened, or you got locked out—since he was technically your neighbor. That said, he’d never used it until the day he found you sitting at the dining table in your apartment, your head in your hands, as you spoke with your parents in Italian. Before you could tell him that you got a two week notice from the owner of the building, he knew that things were bad.

Sliding into the chair next to you, he placed a hand gingerly on your back, hoping to reassure you just a bit. You hang up the call eventually and look up at him. Your eyes are wet.

“Let’s combine the shops.” Charles said abruptly. “We can tear down the wall between the two, your baking is far better than my ice cream anyways. We can split the profits…please.”

You’re exhausted. You’d spent the last month (? two months?) turning him down and at this point you were out of options. With an exhausted demeanor, you agreed, and Charles called the property owner to sort out the details.

Over the next hour or so, it all felt a bit unreal. This wasn’t the outcome that you wanted, but between joining forces with Charles and closing your family’s bakery, there was only one real option. After almost three months of stress and hardship from losing so much business, it felt strange to have all that pressure lifted from your shoulders. It was taking more than a minute for you to get used to.

When Charles returned to your side, he was beaming.

Taking your hand, he reassured you that everything would be okay now that the property owner had agreed to the new plan and received payments from Charles to cover the outstanding balances of your bakery. Squeezing your shoulder, he told you to put on something nice as he wanted to take you out to celebrate. While your mind was still reeling as you processed this new reality, you nodded and met his soft gaze with a smile—holding yourself back from returning with a snippy comment about your sweatpants not being good enough for him. Even after he had left the apartment, part of you still couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this was a dream. It was as though all Charles needed to do was snap his fingers and all of your hardship disappeared—you felt a bit guilty to be honest.

Slipping into a light dress that you’d last worn to a friend’s wedding, you attempted to settle into this new reality. It was only when Charles returned to pick you up that you finally relaxed a bit, the seat of his sports car cradling you as you flew south through fields and small towns. You knew where he was taking you as soon as he turned onto the autostrada; the drive was a bit less than two hours, but it felt like minutes as the two of you wandered in your conversations. The whole arrangement felt suspiciously like a date, but you pushed the thoughts from your mind.

Finally arriving along the seaside, driving past the rows of palm trees that line the beach front shops and promenades, you seemed to have reached a newfound peace with the agreement. Stepping out of the car and into step with Charles, the sea breeze danced across your skin which glowed slightly in the early evening light. You politely ignored the bundle of things that Charles had gathered up from the car before you arrived at the beach, but now, with your feet in the soft sand, he revealed what he had been hiding: an entire picnic with wine and a loaf of your own bread and all of your favorite accoutrements. The sparkle in Charles’ eye as he presented the display to you—as though he had not just set up the whole thing in front of you—made you laugh light-heartedly.

“To our new venture...” Charles proposed, raising his glass to yours once he had poured the wine, his eyes holding yours with ease.

The smile you returned to him was kind and gentle. You were becoming quite fond of spending time with him, and, as the sun slipped closer to the edge of the sea that was splayed before you, you felt his fingers brush over yours. He was simply shifting his position, but the sensation sent an unexpected jolt of lightning across your nerves.

Those same nerves lit up with every subsequent touch: accidental, incidental, and eventually…intentional.

It had been easy to hide your budding relationship over the last month or so, but now that the renovations on your bakery—connecting it to the ice cream shop properly—were complete, the task was considerably more difficult. This difficulty was made particularly so because of your new-found presence on the F1 media radar. It wasn’t that you minded the press, it was nice to finally have attention paid to your bakery, but it was a bit…relentless.

Whenever Charles was coming over, you always made sure to draw the curtains in the apartment. Now that your shops were combined, in theory it would be even easier since he would have the guise of visiting the shop.

This was not the case.

The first time he came to the shop after the merger it was just like usual. You cupped the back of his head and gave him a light kiss on the cheek as you opened the door. His hands were warm from the coffee he had been holding on the way up to the apartment when he placed them on your waist, and a few of his fingers slipped just slightly under the fabric of your shirt as he did. You’d already finished the baking for that day and the rest of the morning with him before the shop opened was quiet and comfortable. The two of you fed the pigeons together—Charles had become quite comfortable with the birds and even learned the whistle that you used to call them—and rested on the sofa as you both finished your coffee and pastries.

This peace and quiet was rudely disrupted when Charles finally left.

It was only one photographer, and you weren’t even in the photo, but Charles Leclerc leaving his ice cream shop which had recently combined with the bakery run by someone the likes of yourself? It was more than a little suspicious.

By the time you closed the shop in the evening, you were exhausted. Charles had meetings in Maranello and wasn’t back until later that night. He’d texted you a bit when he could, but the scale of attention you were receiving because of that morning’s unfortunate event was far more than he thought. He knew you were tired of dancing around questions all day—unable to escape due to the need to keep the shop open—and wanted to make it up to you.

A full bouquet of your favorite flowers was sweet, and everything you needed—besides the feeling of burying your face into his chest as soon as he got there—but it was a stupid idea. Something that Charles wouldn’t realize until it was too late.

You were just finishing making your usual lazy weeknight dinner, but the sound of the door opening across the way made you look up. The smile that swept across your face when you saw him was like a reflex, but it fell slightly when you noticed that he was white as a ghost. It was then that you saw the flowers in hand and the pieces of the puzzle clicked together in your head.

“Charles,” you said laughing, “there is no way that you thought you would get away with this.”

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think that they would still be hanging around.” He was so serious it was honestly endearing.

“Well, it’s too late now,” you joked as you pulled him in for a hug and gave him a quick kiss.

What was ostensibly the hardest of hard launches coming via F1 gossip pages was less than ideal, but as you told Charles later that night, all that mattered to you was that he was there with you. The two of you spent about an hour or so talking with his PR team to figure out the official strategy for dealing with the shitstorm the next 48-72 hours, but he kept a hand on your thigh the whole time. Something about that intimacy, the fact that he really truly cared for you—and always had—that just made you melt as you leaned into his shoulder while the two of you finished up the last call.

He made you melt in other ways too, but it was these little moments—even in otherwise stressful circumstances—that meant everything to you.

The next morning, the shop was closed. It was a Thursday after all and Charles was in the middle of his summer break, never-mind the fact that it was 7:57—your official statements had gone out almost an hour previously. The morning light spilled through the curtains across the room like honey. The weight of Charles’ arm across your waist was comforting as he pulled you in a bit closer, still mostly asleep. It felt like absolute heaven as you felt yourself slip back into sleep, surrounded by his warmth and nestled in the sea of pillows and blankets.

Outside, the pigeons wound lazily through the air around the building; the whistling sound of their wings filtering through the open window and the morning light glowing through their white feathers. You often thought that somewhere, somehow, Charles was hiding a similar pair of wings himself.

author's note: I really thought this sucker would be like 2k or something but here we are LOL. Also in that same vein, I feel like i definitely lost the plot a bit, but such is life. I'll probably edit this again later, sorry if it sucks :'(

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