#about charles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

randomestfandoms-ocs · 4 months

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Sinday info for Charles? (Vance needs to know)

bold what applies to your muse. italicize if it somewhat applies/is something that they may be interested in. strike out what does not apply to them/is something they’d prefer to avoid at all costs.

(have fun Vance)

identity & preferences.

heterosexual. bisexual. pansexual. homosexual. asexual. demisexual. other orientation not specified. cisgender. transgender. non-binary. intersex. other identity not specified. dominant. submissive. verse/varies. sex with men. sex with women. sex with non-binary people. sex with multiple people. sex-neutral. sex-favorable. sex-repulsed. no sex drive. low sex drive. average sex drive. high sex drive. sex in the morning. sex in the mid-morning. sex in the afternoon. sex in the late afternoon. sex in the evening. sex late at night. sex at any time.

sounds.

very quiet. very loud. grows in volume over time. whimpering. whining. moaning. yelling. sobbing. gasping. heavy breathing.

body.

fully clothed. underwear only. naked. lingerie. casual costumes. sexy costumes. clothing not typical of their gender. wears a bra. wears panties. wears boxers. a cup. b cup. c cup. d cup or larger. 1-5 inches. 6-9 inches. 10 inches or larger. sensitive neck. sensitive shoulders. sensitive chest. sensitive nipples. sensitive sides. sensitive abdomen. sensitive hips. sensitive ass. sensitive thighs. sensitive knees. sensitive shins. sensitive feet.

toys.

using vibrators on their partner. having vibrators used on them. using dildos on their partner. having dildos used on them. using strap-ons on their partner. having strap-ons used on them. using cock rings on their partner. having cock rings used on them. using gags on their partner. having gags used on them. using anal beads on their partner. having anal beads used on them.

fetishes & activities.

leather. ropes. nylon. silk. latex. uniforms. stockings. corsets. footwear. high heels. piercings. strap-ons. tattoos. sharp items. weapons. handcuffs. blindfolds. hair. mouths. teeth. tongues. eyes. noses. hands. chests. arms. underarms. stomachs. hips. asses. cocks & balls. legs. feet. urine. blood. menstrual blood. lactation. cum. scat. vomit. ghosts. demons. angels. monsters. aliens. vampires. werewolves. mannequins. tentacles. pet play. puppy play. pony play. macrophilia. microphilia. food. intoxication.

kinks & interests.

giving anal sex. receiving anal sex. giving vaginal sex. receiving vaginal sex. giving oral sex. receiving oral sex. frottage. edging. being edged. cock warming their partner. being cock warmed. tying up their partner. being tied up. cuffing. being cuffed. blindfolding. being blindfolded. calling their partner daddy/mommy. being called daddy/mommy. bdsm. desperation play. cum play. knife play. gun play. blood play. food play. sensation play. dirty talk. roleplaying. barebacking. female domination. praising. being praised. worshipping. being worshipped. humiliating. being humiliated. degrading. being degraded. biting. being bitten. scratching. being scratched. giving pain. receiving pain. spanking. being spanked. whipping. being whipped. licking. being licked. tickling. being tickled. choking. being choked. fisting. being fisted. breeding. being bred. giving hickeys. receiving hickeys. making their partner’s belly bulge. having their belly bulge. pulling their partner’s hair. having their hair pulled. watching their partner. being watched by their partner. watching a third party. being watched by a third party. playing with their partner’s nipples. having their nipples played with. playing with their partner’s ass. having their ass played with. their partner dressing up. dressing up. intercrural sex.

locations.

in a bedroom. in a hotel room. in a home bathroom. in a public bathroom. in the bath. in the shower. at school. in a closet. in the kitchen. in the living room. in a lounge. in an office. in a restaurant/cafeteria. in the woods. in a garden. in a field. at a beach. in the snow. in a car. by a lake/river. in a tent. in a barn/loft. in a tower. under a desk. at a hospital. in an abandoned building. on a rooftop. in an alley. in a parking garage.

#ask #answered #the witching ash #about charles #charles gilmore #minors dni

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formula1squids · 1 year

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he's just a shy boy...

#RELEASE CLACE!!!!#charles i will buy all the coords if u sell them #about charles

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ayo-edebiri · 3 months

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It's happening

#charles iii #i don't wanna think about his prostte

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abstractpyschopomp · 4 months

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#i’m ALWAYS thinking about this game #it genuinely never leaves my head it’s my favorite thing ever #my roman empire fr #i love cowboys #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #john marston #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #charles smith

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abovesn4kes · 3 months

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Rdr2 but make them little animals?!??

posting more of this soon ！

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #dutch van der linde #john marston #arthur morgan #rdr #micah bell #Charles smith #hosea matthews #simon pearson #animal au #anthro #holy shit sorry about the quality drop

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judge-tenderly · 3 months

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okay let’s do a for and against on how likely it is charles will die before he’s been king for a year

against

he was coronated on the 16th of may, we’re in feb now. it’s unlikely he won’t get another 6 months at least because

he has access to the best medical care in the world. no way this wasn’t discovered immediately - giving him the best chance of success

for

hes sooooo old

trisha paytas’s baby is due in may. may has 31 days meaning it’s pretty much an even split chance that she’ll give birth before the 16th

centuries of incest doesn’t just make you ugly, it also SERIOUSLY fucks your health. the best doctors in the world can’t fix genetics that battered

the press don’t know shit. if it were just a melanoma that could be easily cut out the palace would have said so

if manifesting is at all real he’s fucked

#british royal family #king charles #uk politics #trisha paytas #cancer #okay so melanomas might be more scary to other people but i’m australian we have more skin cancer clinics than gp clinics lmao #but seriously fingers crossed everyone i’m not kidding about the manifesting thing you never know

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il-predestinato · 2 months

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Oh, Charles... your memory isn't bad. It's just selective. 🥺

Saudi Arabia 2024 // Val d'Argenton 2012

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #f1 #saudi arabian gp 2024 #val d'argenton 2012 #i like how when he was asked on march 9 2024 what happened on march 9 2024 he's like ??? no clue sry #but when asked in 2021 about what happened in 2012 he gave a play-by-play soliloquy like it happened yesterday #i swear he KILLED me with the whole 'i will remember all my life' 🥺#GIRL HAVE SOME SHAME #*#my edit #fave

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evilscuderia · 1 year

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"He is going through a very difficult time. I think he is among the strongest drivers ever, he surely is on Verstappen and [Hamilton]'s level. But the moment is complicated for him – just look at the difference between Bahrain 2022 and Bahrain 2023. It's bound to make you feel frustrated as a driver, which is why I empathize with him a lot. But he seems extremely strong, extremely capable. He knows they're trying and in turn he will give his 100% – he's already shown it in Bahrain where he was doing something incredible with the little he was given. I'm sure he will keep showing everyone what he's made of."

– Pecco Bagnaia (MotoGP world champion) talking about Charles Leclerc

(please link this post or credit @evilscuderia on twitter or tumblr if you repost this translation to other platforms)

#about charles #charles leclerc

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petit-papillion · 5 months

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"Despite his season threatening to fizzle out, Leclerc vowed to get on top of his troubles. Those words would not be unfulfilled as the Monegasque rebounded emphatically. Across the remaining seven rounds, Leclerc out-qualified Sainz every single time and wasn’t beaten when both drivers classified.

Leclerc registered three podiums and three pole positions to Sainz’s none, while also ending the year with five straight front-row starts. The last statistic provided perhaps the clearest indication that he was back to his swashbuckling best behind the wheel.

The exhilarating sight of Leclerc, equipped with the lowest possible fuel and fresh tyres, hurtling a car into a sequence of corners and dancing perilously close to the extremities of the track had only been on display in flashes through the first two-thirds of the season.

Leclerc’s one-lap speed prospering again proved vital to his race prospects too as it enabled him to manage his pace in clear air, tempering Ferrari’s tyre degradation issue. That was especially clear in the final round at Abu Dhabi, when Leclerc produced a stunning last-gasp qualifying effort to mitigate Ferrari’s cornering deficit to beat McLaren and Mercedes to a front-row spot.

That feat granted him the platform to control proceedings on Sunday to effortlessly caress the tyres home on the optimal strategy without threat, affording him the capacity to display racing intelligence at either end of the encounter to pick his battles wisely and prioritise the team’s goals above his race.

The season finale marked one of Leclerc’s most complete showings in F1, following on from one of his highest peak performances in Vegas that should have yielded a victory.

Despite being usurped from the line by Verstappen, Leclerc outfoxed the Dutchman in managing the Medium tyre against graining in the cooler track temperatures to become the first driver to successfully overtake a Red Bull driver for the lead in ‘23."

Source: Motorsport Week

#i could just quote this entire article #so wonderful to see his race craft acknowledged #charles leclerc #f1 2023 season #about charles

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 2 months

Note

Sinday for Charles?

identity & preferences.

sounds.

very quiet. very loud. grows in volume over time. whimpering. whining. moaning. yelling. sobbing. gasping. heavy breathing.

body.

toys.

fetishes & activities.

kinks & interests.

locations.

#ask #answered #manyfandomocs #charles gilmore #about charles #minors dni

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shipwreckblue · 1 month

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i am once AGAIN thinking about the scene in black sails where flint has just been forced by miranda to confront his overwhelming grief over losing thomas, which has been fueling his unholy rage for the past two seasons. flint is sitting there, having a flashback, drowning in the tragedy and injustice of his gay lover’s death… then vane bursts into the room like a roided-up kool-aid man and immediately tries to kill him. 10/10, flawless tonal whiplash, one of the funniest moments in the entire show.

#if you think about it vane was just being a bro by distracting him from his gay angst.#charles vane queer ally #and by ally i mean he’s very bisexual but he would still CALL himself an ally while making out with jack in public.#black sails #james flint #charles vane #black sails season 2 spoilers

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scuderiahoney · 5 months

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After All

Charles Leclerc x bestfriend!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, tooth rotting fluff

Charles is a lot of things. He’s determined, hardworking, a bit of a self sacrificing dumbass. He’s kind, talented, humble, confident, soft. He’s your best friend, your closest confidant, the person you would trust with your life.

And, according to everyone who’s ever seen the two of you together, he’s madly in love with you.

…..

Pierre’s the first one to say it. He’s known both of you the longest, he’s one of Charles’ best friends. He sidles up next to you on a warm afternoon. You’re both on Charles’ yacht, leaning against the railing and watching as he does a backflip off the deck and into the water.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” you point out, “and Ferrari will not be happy.”

Pierre snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “He is showing off.”

You give him a look of disbelief. “For who?”

Before he can answer, you’re drawn to look at Charles again when he calls your name. You watch and wave at him, and then he lines himself up for another stupid trick dive that makes your stomach lurch. He makes a splash when he lands, sinking deeper and deeper till you can’t see him through the bubbles. Just when you start to worry, just when you feel like he’s been under too long, he resurfaces. He kicks himself to the surface, hair plastered to his forehead, laughing raucously. He’s suddenly the boy you met at 13, big dreams and big plans and a big personality to get him there.

“You,” Pierre says, jarring you out of your staring. “He is showing off for you.”

You roll your eyes and elbow your friend. “What? He is not. Why would he be trying to impress me?”

“Because he is in love with you,” Pierre states, so matter of fact you almost don’t realize what he’s saying. “Come on, it’s obvious.”

“He is not!” You laugh, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Jesus, Pierre, the fumes from those engines must really be getting to you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to speak, probably to rebut with some insane theory he’ll present as fact. He’s interrupted by Charles calling your name again. This time he’s waving you down to the back deck, eyes sparkling. He’s going to want you to jump in. You have a fear of heights, a fear of falling, a fear of deep, open water. Despite it all, you head down to meet him anyways. Charles could talk you into anything, could make even the scariest things seem easy.

“You have to hold my hand, though,” you say, when he urges you to jump in with him. “The whole way, no letting go.”

“The whole way,” he promises, knitting your fingers together.

…..

It’s a bit of fate that you end up in Suzuka for the race. You hadn’t been planning on going, but there’d been cheap flights available when you looked the week before, and suddenly you’re off to Japan. Charles is thrilled about it, always happy to have you there, even when he’s busy and barely gets to see you. He says there’s something comforting about knowing you’re in the garage or the stands.

He takes you with him to as many things as he can, including the pre race media days. The second you meet up with him after you get to Japan, he’s talking non stop about Sebastian’s Buzzin Corner project, and your heart melts at the excitement in his eyes. He’s been missing Seb lately, having a tough go of things and searching for guidance.

You watch from behind the scenes, behind the cameras, as the entire grid arrives to make pollinator hotels and decorate canvases. You smile when Sebastian spots Charles and runs over to give him a hug, and you smile even bigger when Charles follows Sebastian around like a lost puppy. Sebastian seems just as happy to be near Charles again, stopping by to check on Ferrari’s progress frequently.

Charles turns during a lull in the event, when the cameras are on another team and Sebastian is distracted, too. He waves you over, eyes bright, smile wide. You can’t help but be drawn towards him. Any time he wants you nearby, you go willingly, eagerly.

He has paint on his fingers, speckles of it on his shirt. Charles is creative, too. He doesn’t get nearly enough chances to show it, in your opinion. He’s stifled by brand deals and the public eye and overbearing management. You stand next to him, eyeing his and Carlos’ artwork with a soft smile. The pollinator hotel is filled with supplies, the roof is decorated, and Charles tells you excitedly that they’ve already had their first “guest”. He hands you a paintbrush when nobody is paying attention.

“You should add something, chéri,” he says, nudging you lightly.

You look up at him, twist your face into an unsure smile. “Am I allowed to?”

“Of course,” Sebastian says, having made his way back around to the Ferrari team. You smile at Charles’ old teammate as he pays your shoulder lightly. “It’s not exclusive, you know.”

You laugh, reaching out with the paintbrush and adding a small heart next to the stripes and stamps the guys have painted on. “A little love for the the pollinators and bugs.”

“You weren’t saying that about that spider last week,” Charles teases.

“It was in my hair,” you say through gritted teeth, looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t slander me in front of Seb.”

Carlos is giggling, watching the two of you. Sebastian is doing the same, his eyes lit up reminding you of years ago when he and Charles had been teammates. He’d joked about the two of you exhausting him, with your boundless energy and constant flip flopping between bickering and affection. You’d insisted you were the ones keeping Sebastian young.

Someone calls Charles and Carlos over for a photo op. You peruse the bee hotel while you stand next to Sebastian. There’s a lot of people’s artwork on there, but somehow you think you know which brushstrokes belong to Charles.

“I see not much has changed,” Sebastian says, nodding his head towards Charles. “He calls you darling and then teases you in the same minute.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “He is my best friend, both of those things are his job.”

“Ah, to be young and oblivious,” Sebastian says in a lilting tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughs, tilts his head at you. “Just that my wife was my best friend, once.”

You narrow your eyes at him. The glare has no effect if the grin on his face says anything. Sebastian is older, wiser, and Charles trusts his judgement on nearly everything, but you know he’s wrong about this. There’s no way Charles sees you as anything more than a friend. You’ve come to terms with that. You can live with that. You have to live with that.

Charles makes his way back over to the two of you, hands in his pockets. You plaster a sunny smile back on your face and try to ignore the way Sebastian is watching the two of you. Charles is telling you to paint something else, pointing out the empty space left on the canvas and the bee hotel.

He takes your hand, still wrapped around the paintbrush, in his own. He dips it in the black paint, leads you over to the wooden structure, and adds another heart.

“More love,” he says, singsongy, squeezing your hand. Behind you, Sebastian barely muffles an affectionate laugh. “More love for the bugs.”

…..

“This is my favorite song!” You yell over the booming bass.

You have a drink in your hand, your… 6th? of the night? You’re not sure, you’ve lost count. Charles keeps handing them to you every time your gets low. It’s always tequila and soda, always with two limes.

Charles laughs, shaking his head. “You have said that about every song in the past hour.”

“I mean it this time,” you say, eyes wide. You’re standing up from the table, pulling on his arm. “C’mon, we should dance, Charlie!”

He groans lightheartedly. Really, all of this should be your sign to cut yourself off. You don’t like dancing, and you rarely call him Charlie. Everyone calls him Charles, so you’d let the nickname go years ago. You’d worried it made you sound childish, made you sound like you were holding onto years past. He doesn’t budge from his spot in the booth, watching you warily.

“Amour, I don’t like this song as much as you apparently do,” he says, shaking his head. “And I like dancing even less.”

“Fine,” you say with a pout. “I will find someone else, then.”

You melt into the crowd before he can pull you back into the booth and down to earth. You’re at that pleasant stage of drunk where everything is funny and fuzzy and floaty. You spot Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, at the bar, and she needs much less convincing to join you on the dance floor. She abandons Alex with George and follows you eagerly. It’s Las Vegas, you’re here to have fun. This is fun. The two of you squeeze through the swirling mass of people till you find a good spot.

You don’t know how long it’s been when Charles finds you there- you just know you’re sweaty, a few drinks deeper, and past the point of no return. The song that’s playing now is your actual favorite song, a fact that you tell Charles when he steps in front of you, his hands on your waist to steady you.

“I know,” he says, because of course he knows. Nobody knows you better than him. “I also know you are drunk.”

“M’having a good time,” you tell him, wrapping an arm around his neck. It’s just to keep you steady, you tell yourself. “Vegas, baby!”

Charles laughs, shaking his head, but he starts to sway to the music with you. One hand stays on your hip, but the other comes around to your back and pulls you closer. You like being pressed against him, like being able to feel the warmth of him even through the fabric of your clothing. You don’t think before you spin in his grip, press your back to his front, keep your arm around his neck behind your head. Tomorrow morning, or rather, later today, you can blame it on the alcohol.

Charles wraps his arm around your waist in response, and you swear you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he pulls you in again. You’ll blame that on the alcohol too.

It’s like you blink, and then you’re standing out on the sidewalk, surrounded by the lights of the Las Vegas strip. The night air is cold, and you laugh to yourself, thinking about all the talk of a night race in the desert and the temperature.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks.

You’re surprised to find him standing next to you, and you blink at him.

“S’cold,” you say, unable to explain the rest of it. You just giggle again. “Where’s Charlie?”

Max raises his brows. “He went inside to get your jacket. You left it in the booth. Remember, five minutes ago, when you said it was cold?”

Huh. You don’t remember, but Max is probably telling the truth. He and Charles are more of friendly rivals than enemies now, despite their formative years. Max is definitely not trying to kidnap you as revenge. He has nothing to get revenge for- he won the race. Maybe he’s bitter that a Grand Prix he talked about so negatively had ended up being one of the best of the season, you suppose. Though you’re not sure that would give him a reason to kidnap you-

“I called him that once,” Max says, and you tilt your head at him. “Charlie. He didn’t like it.”

You remember. It was in Brazil, when they’d all been gathered in a garage. You’d seen it in a video. You can’t admit that, though, without admitting you watch tiktoks of your best friend, so you stay quiet on that subject.

“He thinks it’s childish,” you say with a shrug, scuffing the toe of your shoe on the ground. “I… forget, sometimes.”

You forget that Charles isn’t just your thirteen year old friend, the guy you’d never expected to even tolerate you. You can’t remember how it even happened, how you went from barely saying hi in the halls at school to dinners with his family, homework at their kitchen table. You’re not sure it matters now. What matters is keeping him a part of your life.

You’ve adapted. You’ve let pieces of him go, like childhood nicknames and any hope he’ll ever look at you the same way you look at him. Charles is larger than life, now. You’re still small. You’re still thirteen sometimes, still sitting at the table, begging Charlie to help you with your math problems.

“That’s the thing,” Max says, nudging your side lightly. “He doesn’t seem to mind when it’s you that says it.”

You frown. “Oh, he definitely minds.”

Max shrugs. “He doesn’t show it, then. Probably because he loves you.”

You nod solemnly. “I am his best friend.”

“Right,” Max laughs. “Sure. Friend.”

Charles reappears shortly after that, your jacket in hand. It turns out Max isn’t even leaving- he’d just been tasked with keeping an eye on you while Charles went back inside. He says goodbye and goes back into the club, while Charles is checking his phone, telling you the car should be there any minute. The night has gone from fuzzy to blurry, and you lean heavily on Charles’ shoulder, blinking repeatedly and trying to stay awake. He pours you into the backseat of the car, drags you out of it ten minutes later when you get to the hotel.

“You are so drunk,” he says, standing in the elevator, your head against his chest.

“I know you are but whatamI?” You slur, tugging on his jacket.

Charles just laughs. Even if he could understand you, he wouldn’t get the reference. His hand is resting on your shoulder, fingers squeezing your bare skin softly. You’d taken your jacket off as soon as you got inside, complaining about being hot. Charles had just taken it from your hands with an exasperated smile.

“I think you should sleep in my room,” he suggests when the elevator dings and the doors begin to open. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

You’re not that drunk, but you’re not going to argue. “Yeah, okay.”

When you wake up in his bed in the morning, Charles is asleep on the couch. He’s stretched out, one arm hanging off the edge, one foot on the armrest. His blanket is tangled in his limbs, and you feel guilty, suddenly. It was his night to celebrate, and he’d ended up taking care of you, ended up sacrificing his hotel bed and sleeping on the sofa. You sit up, feeling sick to your stomach, and not from the hangover.

“Lay down,” Charles says, not even opening his eyes. “S’too early. You need more sleep.”

“I should go to my room,” you whisper, and he opens one eye and looks at you warily. “That couch cannot be comfortable.”

“It’s not,” he admits, and the guilt lurches in your gut again. He’s smiling, though. “You tried to insist on sharing the bed, but you were very drunk.”

That’s not surprising. Drunk you always wants Charles close. You direct your eyes to the comforter and muster up all the courage you have left.

“I’m sober now,” you tell him. “So either we share the bed, or I go to my room. You look so uncomfortable.”

Charles hesitates for only a second. You wonder if you’ve gone too far, if you’ve crossed the line. But then he’d shifting, untangling himself from the blankets and tumbling off the couch. He crawls into the bed next to you, sighing happily as he sinks into the mattress. Seemingly almost without thinking, he reaches out, slips his arm around your waist, and hauls you against his chest. You let it happen.

There’s something sacred about the time between morning and night. The sky is a purple hue outside the hotel room window. The halls are quiet. Charles’ heart thuds in your ear, steady and beating out a soothing rhythm, and nothing about this feels out of place. It’s like this is where you’re meant to be, tucked against him, slotted together like puzzle pieces. You wrap your arm around his upper arm, and he pulls the blankets over the two of you.

“G’night, Charlie,” you mumble.

He laughs, and it’s a sweet sound. There’s no hostility behind it. “Goodnight, amour.”

…..

There’s something to be said about your inability to see something as it is until it’s staring you in the face. You’re stubborn as a mule, and maybe blind as a bat, too. It’s not till the holiday break that it all clicks into place.

Charles is sitting next to you at your kitchen counter, decorating cookies. You’ve been baking all weekend. It’s your grandmother’s recipe, now your responsibility to keep up the tradition. There are batches set aside for your family to decorate later, another set for the cookie party you’re holding with some of your friends from university. But Charles had whined and begged about wanting to decorate cookies, about wanting to be a part of the tradition, and you’d given in oh so easily.

He has a heart shaped one in his hand, a knife with red frosting in the other hand. He’s being so delicate, so particular, like it means so much to him. It’s just a cookie, you want to say to him. You hold my actual heart in your hands every day without a care, but you’re so delicate with a cookie?

Except, then, you’re thinking about it, and maybe that’s not true. Charles is brash and bold and confident, but he’s never anything other than gentle with you. He cares deeply, throws himself headfirst into things, he’s all or nothing. But when he’s around you he lets his guard down, takes the time to think. He’s cautious, heartfelt, kind. He takes his time.

“Max asked me to play padel today,” he says casually. “To make up for him missing our match.”

You laugh, though it feels a bit forced. You’re watching his hands, watching as he takes the white icing and writes something on the cookie. “Oh? You didn’t go?”

Charles shakes his head. “He wasn’t free till 11:00. I told you I’d be here at 10:30.”

You frown, blinking at him. He’s so focused on the cookie he doesn’t even notice you staring. He hasn’t spent this much time on a single cookie since he got to your apartment that morning.

“You could have come over later,” you say.

He shakes his head. “This was more important. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

It shouldn’t be the moment, is the thing. Nothing spectacular happens. It’s not like he’s made some big confession, not like anything drastic has changed. Somehow, you just know. He looks up at you, a soft smile on his face, and it’s so, so obvious. You wonder if this is what he sees when you look at him. You wonder if this is what everyone else has seen and told you about. There’s so much love in his gaze that it makes your heart skip a beat, makes your skin feel hot, makes your fingertips go numb. You set your cookie down on the table.

He holds his in his own hand, peering down at it as if he’s judging it in a competition. He turns it between his fingers, leaving a red thumbprint on the underside of it. He has icing on his fingers, all the colors of the rainbow. It’ll probably stain his skin.

“You are always more important,” he breathes, and you can’t breathe at all. “The most important.”

He turns the cookie towards you, but you already know what it’ll say. His initials and yours, in white icing on a red backdrop. He’s been saying it all along, really. The whole way. More love. I know. Somehow it has still caught you off guard, stolen the air from your lungs and the words from your lips. All this time pining after him and you had never actually considered he might be feeling it, too. But it’s there, written on the cookie, and it’s written on his face, too.

You lean in to kiss him. He tastes like frosting and feels like love, and you wonder how you didn’t see it sooner.

…..

A week later, Pierre spots the matching hickeys on yours and Charles’ necks and laughs his ass off.

“I told you,” he says, through peals of laughter, shaking his head. “You are both so blind.”

Charles wraps his arm around your waist, and you shrug. You stare up at your boyfriend, happier than you’ve ever been, the weight of his hand on your hip grounding you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, dismissing Pierre even as he continues to laugh. “We figured it out. That’s all that matters.”

Charles leans close, presses his lips to your forehead. You feel it all. The years of waiting, wondering, wishing. Pierre is congratulating the two of you and saying something about calling Carlos about a bet they’d apparently had. You can’t bring yourself to care. In the end, you suppose, Pierre deserves to gloat. All your friends do.

They were right, after all.

thanks for reading! you can check out my other fics here!

#charles Leclerc #f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #charles Leclerc oneshot #f1 oneshot #charles Leclerc x reader #charles Leclerc x you #cl16 #honeywrites #first public fic on a blog with an Oscar icon and it’s about Charles?? oh well

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