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living life in technicolour! 23,MDNI

[fairiesdowntheroad]

INTRODUCING ME!

j/jean | 23. | she/her |

english is not my first language!

fandoms i write for — formula 1,formula 2.

i write fluff and angst only! feel free to send in requests here 🫶🏻

latest works — she loves control 1

[fawnindawn]

scale of attraction.

summary: zuko's straight-forwardness in appreciating the attractive qualities of the lone stranger saved by aang has you curious on whether you could get him to spill on what he thinks of you. (no major movie spoilers)

pairing: firelord! zuko x reader

content: fluff, idiot zuko my love, mutual pining, firelord zuko 😞🙏

"He's very attractive." Zuko admits, eyes unblinking as he stares at the unconscious stranger.

The entire team whips their heads to stare at Zuko in unconcealed shock.

"What?" Zuko mutters, gaze lingering on the surprised expressions casted onto him, before eventually landing on yours. "He is. It's all in the bone structure."

You blink, unable to process his straight-forward words that landed on you like a gut punch. You've never considered it, the fact that Zuko also found others attractive.

It seems like a completely, silly notion now that the thought has verbalised itself in your mind. Of course Zuko would notice if others were considered attractive. Maybe it just never occurred to you in all your years of knowing him—of also finding him—

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look away from his prying gaze, confusion alight in his eyes from your taken-aback expression.

If he's unconsciously considered the attractiveness of this stranger... has he ever—no, this should not be your priority. It doesn't matter what he thinks of you, it's not like it would change a thing. He's practically admitted it non-verbally through that monotonous admission of his, that a person's looks is assessed by him in a completely, impersonal standpoint.

Bone structure? You shouldn't be curious. Knowing Zuko, he might accidentally insult your structure if you asked.

The curiosity does not disappear. In fact, it digs deeper and deeper into the crevices of your mind—subconsciously affecting your attitude around Zuko.

It doesn't help that it's painfully obvious that he's noticed your strange behaviour ever since his comment. Once, when his hand had come up to your shoulder to alert you that everyone was boarding the ship—and your entire body jumped in response. Again, when you completely blanked out when he asked if you would like some firecracker buns.

It's not like you wanted to hyper-focus on his observation on purpose. It's just that after years of knowing him and pushing down that sub-concious attraction—of not allowing yourself to even see him as anything more than the Zuko you know, the rebound impact of all your resurfacing emotions combined with his lingering presence is far too much.

Zuko isn't the type to beat around the bush either, one of the rare habits his uncle hasn't passed onto him. In a moment of needed reprieve, your attempt at regaining your composure fails spectacularly when you find yourself in a stand-still, cornered in the back of the ship—one firecracker bun in his hand as an offering.

"Have I said something to make you uncomfortable?"

Zuko's gaze is akin to a puppy's, wide-eyed and brows furrowed. Afraid that he's done something wrong, overlooked the choice of his words once again and destroyed the atmosphere without realising.

Straight to the point as ever, you'd appreciate it more if he had given you a few more minutes to come up with a reasonable excuse. Something more plausible than 'Do you find me attractive?', a lingering question that should've remained buried in the soil that you departed from nearly an hour ago.

"Not exactly." Taking the firecracker bun from his hand, the crumbs coat your fingers. You needed something to muffle your words, anything to distract you. It's easier to focus on the lingering spice that melts into your tongue, rather than his unblinking stare.

"So—I did say something." His mouth parts, a slight tilt downward in the corner of his lip. "Or I've made you uncomfortable."

There was no winning with him. Swallowing your last bite, you brush the crumbs against your sleeve, the slouch of your posture a key sign of surrender, your invisible white flag waving at the sight of his increasingly dubious expression.

"The first one." You admit with a sigh. "Earlier—"

He leans in subtly, a habit he does when he's listening attentively, and the luscious wave of his bangs brushes against your knuckles. His amber eyes pierce through you, and the words practically die off your tongue.

Why is he looking at you like that?

It isn't fair that he has such an effect on you. You still remember the old days, when he had a worser temper instead of the softened expression that lingers warmly on you. Plus, that horrible haircut, a singular ponytail with the rest of his hair shaved off forever engrained in your mind. Even recalling the image doesn't help calm your thundering heartbeat when the Zuko in front of you is so—overwhelming.

"You were saying?" He prods gently.

You swallow, averting your gaze. "When you mentioned... about attractiveness. Was that like—a spur of the moment kind of thing, or do you have a first impression for everyone you meet?"

His brows furrow for a moment, before recognition lights his golden gaze. "Ah—that."

"Right, that." You feel the seat warming beneath you in your embarrassment, a hallucination of senses in your sudden need to escape his assessing gaze. He barely even remembers his comment, and here you are, still obsessively prying over it.

"I was only answering Toph's question." He states. "No one was stating the obvious."

"The obvious." You muse. "Do you assess the attractiveness of everyone you meet?"

"I suppose it depends." He mutters, hand rubbing over his chin in consideration. "If it was during a battle, I wouldn't be prioritising on considering the opponent's appearance. As compared to someone knocked out on the ground, it gives me plenty of time."

You barely resist a snort. Only he could treat a topic like a person's attractiveness like one of his battle strategies. "I suppose you didn't have time during our first meeting then."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, both you and Zuko freeze. Your lips clamp shut, an immediate wince shuddering through your frame. Cat's out of the bag, you suppose.

"Never mind." You wave it off, your own laugh echoing much too loudly through your ears. "It wasn't like I was wondering—well, maybe I was. You just sprung it out of nowhere earlier, and I got... curious. You don't have to answer—"

"I did." He cuts you off unceremoniously.

You blink, his vague words echoing in the thin distance between the two of you. "What?"

He swallows, and for once, he's the one flustered in this conversation. "I did notice, during our first meeting."

No way. Your first meeting with Zuko was anything but pretty. You remember being covered in sweat, grime, and ashes coating your clothes as he shot flames at you from his palms. The twisted grimace on his face when you had him writhing under your grip, as he loudly declared his revenge on you, rupturing your eardrums with all his yelling.

"You mean—" You barely resist a grin stretching on your lips. "—when I pinned you down on your airship, and you were spitting death threats into my ear."

"Yes, that." His long locks cover his ears now, but you can bet the rims are reddened from the reminder. "You were formidable."

Formidable. No, that wasn't enough. His sudden focus on the floorboards of his ship made it obvious that he was simplifying his observation.

"I was gaining the winning hand." You state out-right, disbelief coating your tone. "And you had time to notice?"

A restrained sigh escapes Zuko's gritted teeth, already regretting his slip of tongue.

"What of the angle? Does the Fire Lord recall my bone structure during our first battle too, when I pinned you to the floor?" You tease.

He scoffs in a light-hearted manner, shoulder lightly bumping into yours. "It was the first time anyone had pinned me down. I wasn't exactly given another view to look at."

"Was the view bad then?" You prod.

"Not at all." He answers absentmindedly—quickly without hesitation.

Your lips part, speechless. Zuko immediately separates his shoulder from yours, a bashful expression overtaking his features.

"Objectively." He states hurriedly, waving his arms. "I was expecting to find the Avatar at the time, not... you."

The way he says it, the almost breathless note that leaves his lips. You devour it hungrily, now being the one to lean in, prying.

"And how did you find me, Zuko?" You ask earnestly.

He huffs in defeat. His softened gaze finally meets yours again, his eyes roaming over your features, ones that he's familiarised with for years, and yet... it still takes the breath out of him. "...You were the most beautiful person I've ever sparred with."

Oh... wow. You didn't expect that.

"You were threatening to kill me." You recall in disbelief.

"I was multi-tasking." He mutters, ashamed.

Your intended snort escalates into a cackle, unable to contain yourself. "I would have never guessed that from the way you glared at me. So full of shame—and destroyed pride."

"What about you?" He asks in a hurry, though his tone drops towards the end in hesitation—hinting his regret in the wrong change in topic. He grimaces, gaze dropping to his tightened fists over his lap. "...Did you find my scar hideous?"

Surprise colours your features.

Immediately shaking your head, you're at a loss for words on how to convey just how off-course he was on his guess. How could you ever find Zuko hideous? Your heart barely survived your visits to the Fire Nation, not when their own Fire Lord always insisted on attending to your presence personally, even when it arose suspicion of your shared bond with him, to have him so easily distracted when you arrived on his lands.

Even now, he's overwhelming your vision. Healthy muscles that are barely hidden under his clothes, or the hair he's refused to cut ever since his youth that now flows lusciously down his broad back. His amber eyes that glint golden when the sun reflects his irises, and even the conjured image of the way his arms move when he's fire-bending.

He's— "Beautiful."

By the time you realise your second slip of the tongue, Zuko has already blinked once, caught off-guard.

You purse your lips, finding this conversation to be as riveting as it is a weaponised self-attack. "Objectively speaking. You're attractive, Zuko."

"Objectively." He repeats slowly, amused that you're using his own deflecting choice of words.

"Fine, like really attractive." You deadpan. "It's annoying, because I'm supposed to be focused on the mission, and you're just... standing there."

It was the truth. You couldn't be the only one who noticed it. His subtle change in demeanour over the years, how he carried himself into a room now instead of randomly announcing his arrival at the worst timings. Even Sokka noticed.

He snorts, and the sound deflates the tension in your chest. "Funny, I should be saying that about you."

You gasp, expression aghast. "You're joking."

"It is not honourable to lie." He shrugs. "You've always been the most magnetic in my eyes. I can never find myself looking away from you."

You grow quiet, the genuine sincerity in his words leaving you defenseless. Have you been blind all along? Is that why he always sent letters—asking you to visit his nation for purposes other than meetings? Or why he sought for your company constantly during this entire trip, despite it being the first time the entire set of Team Avatar being together in months?

You had been too focused on what was comfortable and familiar, to teasing and prodding, that you never considered this.

"For the record." You whisper, leaning in to truly look at him. "I never found your scar hideous. You were always beautiful to me, Zuko."

He swallows, something intense flickering in his gaze—but too fleeting for you to catch onto it. Maybe it had always been there, when his eyes linger on your form when he accompanied you in his palace gardens, or even back then, when he was a banished prince who sought for you, even with a grimace on his face.

"That haircut when we first met, though?" Your smile breaks out into a toothy grin. "Absolutely hideous."

The softness in his gaze falters, before a groan rumbles past his throat. "Will you ever let that one go?"

"Never."

He lets out a low breath, drained of his energy. "I admitted to finding you attractive, and this is my repayment?"

"Who's finding who attractive?"

Sokka's voice strikes a jump in your shoulders, and Zuko's in an impressive halt, frozen completely after being caught red-handed.

"Ah, between the two of you—" Sokka whistles. "I was wondering who was going to break first. Congrats, love-birds!"

"We're not—" Your voice clashes with Zuko's. "This isn't—"

You sneak a glance to Zuko, and his hand is already covering half of his face, his embarrassment shielded by the shadow of his large palm.

Sokka's confused gaze switches between the two of you, blinking slowly.

"Ah, couple years too early?" Sokka shrugs, before clicking his tongue. "That's rough. I'll check back in with you guys in another time." Making his way back towards the front, he shouts once more to prove his point. "Just don't let me catch you guys making out or anything, I'll need to poke out my eyes for that one!"

"...We better restrain him before he starts blasting it as news to everyone." You groan.

"Agreed." He mutters.

Right as you made your move to leave, Zuko's hand grips yours—stopping you.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. "Yeah?"

His Adam's apple bobs up and down, consideration clear in his expression before he decisively leans in. His voice is a warm hush, soft and intimate when he whispers. "For the record." Your own words echo back to your ears in the low hush of his voice. "I wasn't only referring to our first meeting when I said that you're beautiful."

His smile quirks up into something tender, a secret expression reserved only for you. ...At this rate, your curiousity was really going to be the death of you.

likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated! <333

a/n: i need to write more firelord zuko stat. he looks so good and still so awkward my childhood crush has been reignited.

[satoerusgf]

satoru is a special case, and everyones knows it. he's a little too clingy, and a little too whiny and definitely a little too spoiled. it's not like he chose to be this way, he'd whine. he was just given every single thing he'd ever wanted from the brand new crayola markers in kindergarten, to the newest collection of designer shirts from whatever designer brand people like the gojos shopped at.

and being a little too spoiled means he's also a little too good at getting his way. its years of pouting and blinking his tear-filled eyes at his mum that lets him get away with it. not only was he a spoiled child, he's also a spoiled boyfriend.

"baby, please just look at me! i'm so painfully bored and deprived of your affection."

"satoru," you deadpad, "if you have the energy to be a nuisance while i'm trying to work, you have the energy to finish your assignments too."

"it's not satoru. that's not my name," he said, or rather, he whined.

you don't spare a glance at him.

"hmph." is all you hear from him. and not just once. for a solid 10 minutes, you heard atleast 15 'hmphs' from him.

you sigh, setting your pen down. this is going nowhere. sure he's being quiet, technically. but you can't focus because, well, okay sure so maybe you do want a cuddle. to be fair, he just looked like that, and you've been sitting here doing your work for so long.

"satoru?" you prod.

"what do you want."

"a cuddle."

a shuffle. a giggle. you can't help but roll your eyes.

"oh baby, you should've just asked. i'm always here for when you're needy!"

"you're glad you're cute, toru." you say, bumping foreheads with him to peck his lips.

"and you just won't admit you're needy." satoru said, pecking you back.

it's not so bad having a spoiled boyfriend after all, especially if it means you're getting spoiled too.

[yuesning]

#HIGHKEY NEED THAT 👀

ও martin just wants you so bad and he'll never give up despite the responses you give him

( 마틴 ) martin x f!reader — downbad martin, swearing, humor — smau

( notes 🪷 ) — typo on slide 6 omfg it's always that slide too i hate it 💔

( DIRECTING...📽️ ) PT 2

© yuesning

[yuesning]

#HIGHKEY NEED THAT 👀

ও martin just wants you so bad and he'll never give up despite the responses you give him

martin x f!reader | smau | downbad martin | humor

a/n : typo on slide 6 omfg it's always that slide too i hate it💔

© yuesning

[lololololchips]

Hear me out:

SVT gets a text for their S/o that’s like “what are you wearing?” And they think they’re just being flirty. But they just wanted and OOTD to match their outfit or something😭😭😭😭

anon i will name my first born after you cause omgggg this request was so funny to make!!! enjoy:)))

SEVENTEEN || ootd gone wrong texts w/ seventeen!

genre: fake texts, one shot, fluff, smau

warnings: cursing, 18+ jokes, mention of sexting, nsfw (nothing bad just jokes)

[chaossvt]

policeman : "what are your names?"

dk : "don't tell him mingyu!"

policeman [ writing down ] : "okay mingyu and ?"

mingyu : "damn it seokmin!?"

[mi9yuz-deactivated20250714]

let me (・●・) lsm

fluff wc 258 | this one’s been in the drafts @seokmn

You grunt, twisting your body as you try to lift the heavy box onto the top shelf of the closet. It's just out of reach, and your arms already feel exhausted from rearranging the whole room. Still, you continue: "I can do it."

A voice behind you, half joking, half exasperated.

"You're repeating that a lot, but your arms are actually trembling."

You spin on your heels, nearly dropping the box on its side in the process, and glare up at Seokmin. He leans against the doorframe, forearms crossed, that too-damn-pretty smile fixed on his face like he's already won.

"I can do it."

"I know you can," he says, moving towards you. "But why should you when I'm right here?"

You try to wriggle around him, desperate to do one tiny thing for yourself — to prove you can. But he's quicker. One hand moves to steady the box with one easy motion, the other draped on your lower back.

"Let me do this," he repeats, but more softly now. Less tease. "Not because you couldn't. Simply because I wish to."

You stand still, positioning the weight of the box in his hands — and positioning the weight of his integrity in your heart.

So you let him. He sets his hands up and pops the box into place effortlessly, then comes back to you with that radiant smile of his.

"TEAMWORK," he brags.

You roll your eyes but don't fight when he pulls you close.

He skims a kiss to your temple.

"Next time, I'm lifting the couch myself," you mutter.

He laughs. "I'll believe it when I see it."

[hakunagi-deactivated20250605]

⠀⠀⠀⠀최승철⠀⠀⠀⠀───⠀⠀⠀⠀VALENTINE'S⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀───⠀⠀ ₍ > ₎ ⠀⠀fluff est relationship cw petname (love) food mention⠀⠀⠀ ⠀wc 600+

an: part of RUSH FOR LOVE event!! this one's rushed because i have to study for exams but enjoy!! ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ

⠀⠀⠀ Now playing. . . 01:40 ━━━●───── 03:33 lovers rock by tv girl

How would you spend your Valentine's with Seungcheol

7:58 AM : Waking up

“Cheollie, wake up” you softly mumbled, gently shaking your boyfriend's shoulder as he rolled on his side with a faint ‘5 more minutes love’ before going back to sleep.

you knew that his five minutes would extend to 10 minutes, 15 and so on. That's why your only resolve was to pull out your hidden guns.

“We have a lot of plans today, love.” You said. This made Seungcheol sit up from the couch, squinting his eyes with a pout on his lips as he opened his arms, inviting you for a cuddle which you gladly accepted.

Wrapping his strong arms around your waist, he put his head on your shoulders while placing kisses on your neck, eyes still closed─trying his very best to fight the sleepiness.

“Do we really have to go this early?” He grumbled against your skin. “Well you're the one who said that we have a lot of plans today y'know, you even mentioned that ‘it's better to start early’” you mimicked his voice from last night, erupting a giggle from him.

“fine… just─five more minutes hm? I need to atleast have you in my arms every morning”

more content below! (↓)

8:15 AM : Breakfast

Patiently waiting for the food, Seungcheol leaned on the chair, still feeling a drowsy. The sleepiness in him still didn't vanished since this morning.

“Remind me to never start early” He mumbled, you chuckled at the face he made as the waiter came to your table and serve your breakfast. You thanked the waiter before picking up your spoon, filling it with soup as you carefully inch it towards Seungcheol.

“Say ahh” you instructed which Seungcheol complied, because how can he pass suchba opportunity to get feed by you?

2:55 PM : Museum

Tracing your finger along the perfectly drawn figure of the majestic woman in the painting, you smile to yourself, admiring the masterpiece.

As Seungcheol stood behind you, waiting for you to finish doing whatever you were because he definitely wasn't interested in this, he mumbled to himself; "What's even special about this—"

You turned your head in his direction, shooting him a glare. He paused, suddenly feeling goosebumps all over his body.

"I mean! Look at this!" He reached out, running his hand on the painting. "It's so beautifully painted, my breath stops when I'm looking at it," he exaggerated. "Artists back then were really onto something, damn."

Seungcheol's sudden change in behaviour as soon as you gave him the look was worth watching. You never thought you'd make a buff man like him fall for you this badly.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol doesn't really care about the painting. not when a beauty like you is standing beside him, he couldn't care less.

8:30 PM : Dinner

When Seungcheol finds out that you've been dreaming to eat at a Michelin Restaurant, he thinks ‘why not let them experience it?’

He booked a table right beside the window just so you can see and enjoy the city light while waiting for your food to get cooked

When you're not aware, he's secretly taking pictures of you and setting it as his lock screen. You're taking a picture of the food but he's taking pictures of you <3

“This place is very pretty, love. I've been dying to get my foot here!” you giggled

“Well, I'm glad I asked your friend for advice. Now let's order, shall we?” He grinned, his eyes noticed the way you faltered a little bit when you looked at the menu.

Seeing you hesitate, Seungcheol is quick to add “don't worry about the price love, it won't make a dent in my bank” which made you feel a little bit better. The double─hell triple digits on the menu sure isn't pleasing but you know Seungcheol stays true to his words.

"Stop worrying about it, love. the bill doesn't even cost that much" seungcheol tries to reassure you "But what if you lose all your money and become broke?" you pout. He's always found you cute, but even cuter when you pout. the way your bottom lip pushes out and you look down at the ground, he falls in love all over again.

“Well that gives me another reason to work hard. After all a man provides for his woman right? Now stop worrying your pretty head and enjoy the food, ‘kay?”

8:59 PM : Gift

There is no doubt that Seungcheol loves surprising you. With designer bags, vacation─anything you want.

You've mentioned a quiet time that you wanted some company while he's away. and he knows how to solve that.

So when he took you to a dog cafe, you thought it would be just another silly date but that's not his intention at all─instead, he watched you interact with the dogs there and without a thought, he whipped out his card and bought the dog as a gift for you <3

“Cheollie are you…” you whispered to yourself as you looked at him with wide eyes.

While you're playing with one of the dogs there, Seungcheol can see in your eyes that you wanted to have one. so that whenever he's away, you've got at least a companion with you.

You both heard a small whimper beside you, turning your head, you looked towards your dog who's pawing Seungcheol's lap with a sad look.

“You've mentioned it once so i thought this would be the best gift i could give to you, love” He said as he crouched beside you, giving your new dog some belly scratches. not noticing the way your eyes well up with tears as you suddenly hug him, hiding your face at the crook of his neck while sniffing.

“I─thank you… sniff it's the best gift ever─sniff─i love it so much..” you whimpered while he wiped the tears out of your eyes, cupping your face with both of his hands, forming a pout on your lips─placing a kiss on it.

“Look who's jealous!” He giggled, ruffling the dog's ears. “What should we name him love?” he asked.

“We should name him after Mingyu” you snickered.

“Sounds like a great idea.” He hummed.

Never in his life he thought about celebrating nor participating in Valentine's Day─on that day, all he did was hangout with his friends or drink with them─but when he met you, he knew that starting from now on, his February 14th would be more eventful and it's all thanks to you.

⠀⠀(≧▽≦)⠀⠀please like & reblog!!⠀⠀───⠀ @kstrucknet @k-films

[kyeomofhearts]

Bed Wars | J.WW

+ summary: after spending countless hours building a house for your boyfriend... you're suddenly met with his bed placed right next to yours? what the hell man! + pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader + word count: 800~ + content: fluff, established relationship, they're just playing minecraft lol, reader likes to bicker.

[ᝰ.ᐟ] happy valentine's day!!! thought i would post something small to celebrate since i didn't post for last year's valentine's day. also i would like to (unfortunately) thank @cherry-zip for bullying me into posting this on time! hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! <3 (borders made by @enchanthings !)

"C’mon dude,” you groaned, staring at the sight in front of you. “I made you a house for a reason!”

Wonwoo’s response? Moving his bed right next to yours. 

“Well, I want to sleep here,” he stated simply.

You let out an annoyed sigh, arms crossed. “Like, seriously? The colors don’t even match!”

Wonwoo only giggled, enjoying your frustration with him. “What are you talking about? My purple bed goes perfectly with your pink one. Also, what if a creeper spawns in my house—how will you ever hear my cries for help?”

Your eye twitched at his insistence. God, he was so annoying. “Now, why would a creeper spawn in your house?” 

“You never know, I’ve seen it happen before.” 

“Fine. I’ll move out then,” you said, quickly destroying your bed and leaving the house. You weren’t even bothered enough to take anything from your chests.

The two of you continued playing in silence for a few minutes. It’s not like you were actually mad or anything… but it was fun to start a meaningless fight with Wonwoo. 

In the meantime, you explored the surrounding biomes in hopes of finding a suitable place to make a new house. Well, more like a camp. (Your house was way too pretty for you to simply abandon.)

After a few more minutes of silence, Wonwoo began to message you in the game.

[gam3bo1: where are you :(]

[gam3bo1: i miss youuuuu]

[gam3bo1: answer me!]

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, turning to look at you from his monitor, eyes filled with faux innocence.

You scoffed. “Oh, no. Not at all. I just love how you’re completely ignoring the fact that I built a whole house for you, and yet, you insist on staying in my house!”

Wonwoo let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, it's not my fault my house feels so… lonely.” 

You rolled your eyes as he spoke, but he didn’t stop there. Who would’ve known that he was going to be this pouty.

“Look, our babies miss you too.” He waved you down to look over at his screen.

To your disappointment, curiosity got the better of you. “This better be–” Your voice cut off at the sight of your pets. 

All of your in-game pets–the dogs, cats, and even the random parrot you found in a jungle biome a few weeks back–were all sitting obediently inside your home. Wonwoo had conveniently placed them all in front of his bed, having them turned to look at the empty space–where your bed used to be. 

You narrowed your eyes upon realizing the little stunt he was trying to pull on you. “You’re trying to manipulate me into going back home!”

Wonwoo gasped. “I would never do such a thing!”

After a few moments of pure laughter, you finally gave in. You could never stay mad at him for too long. 

“...Fine, I’ll come back.” You huffed out, finally turning back to your monitor and making your way back home.

As you neared your house, something new caught your eye.

Behind your house, was a small, heart-shaped garden. The ground was tiled in a red-and-pink checkered pattern, carefully placed block by block. Peonies and roses filled the garden’s corners, their colors nicely decorating the huge heart in the middle. In front of the heart sat a small seating area just for the two of you.

“Oh.”

“I made it while you were ignoring me,” Wonwoo said, his voice suddenly next to your ear.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard. It was… annoyingly cute.

You continued to move around, stepping onto the checkered flooring and admiring the little details he had placed all around. It was cute.

“...You built me a garden?” you asked softly.

Wonwoo hummed. “I might have had help from a few tutorials, but yeah. I wanted to make a spot for us.” 

And unsurprisingly, your stomach did an embarrassing flip.

Wonwoo went back over to his desk, quickly moving his player to sit on one of the chairs in the garden. Following him, you sat down in the chair in front of him, and before you could even say anything he beat you to it.

“I just thought our shared house could use a little extra love. You know, since we obviously live together.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as Wonwoo laughed triumphantly beside you. He just had to ruin the moment! 

“Now c’mon, let’s go to bed,” he said as he pressed ‘Save and Exit’. By the time you reached the main menu, Wonwoo was already pulling you away from your desk.

“I’m never building you anything ever again,” you muttered, body betraying you as you leaned into him on your shared bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And yet you still let me sleep next to you.” 

You wanted to argue, but sleep was already pulling you away. “Mhm, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

[leclucklerc]

Hard Carry CL16 - 05. Her House

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader

Summary: Charles went to y/n's house for the first time

Word Count: 4.3K

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This is bad, thought Charles frantically. This is baddd.

The journey from his car to y/n’s front door goes in a flash as Charles is in the middle of panicking. He didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect y/n to stop on her track as she was exiting his car and offered him to go up to her house.

Charles didn’t expect that he would stand here, in y/n’s house, rooted on his spot.

He could feel his eyes move frantically around the room, taking everything in. Though, with the way his heart thundered inside his chest as if there was a mini earthquake happening in there, he doesn’t think he can concentrate on his surroundings anyway.

“Follow me,” said y/n, beckoning him to come closer.

This is insane.

What’s happening here? He thought hysterically as he followed the older woman.

Charles was just attending a party that his pr manager asked him to. It’s a party hosted by one of the would-be sponsors for F1’s next season. Considering the financial situation of Sauber, the guy basically forced Charles to attend in order to make the sponsor happy and, in turn, willing to sponsor Sauber for the upcoming years.

Lorenzo was supposed to come, but he got sick and canceled on him. No problem, Charles had always been a sociable person. Despite this being his first year in F1, he had spent years in the racing world in general. He knows how sponsors work and what was expected of him during the party.

He had come prepared. He had read about the sponsors and the overview of them. Hell, he even checked the party attendance and searched some of them in case he needed to make small talk about something that he was unfamiliar with.

What he didn’t expect was to see both Max and y/n.

Charles knows that both Red Bull and Porsche will be at the party. However, he didn’t expect that the teams would send their drivers personally, too. After all, both are the prized drivers of their teams. He thought that attending a sponsor party would be something beneath them.

His and Max’s relationship is a bit… weird.

They’ve been racing against each other since they were kids. Often headbutting against each other – figuratively and literally. If someone asked Charles who is his biggest rival in the sport, he could confidently say that it was Max. Someone that he always chased after during the lower categories. Someone who is somehow always ahead of him in almost everything.

Outside of Max, his relationship with y/n is… it’s comfortable. He had always idolized the older driver. Someone that he aimed to be able to match someday. A person that had seemed to be so out of reach just a mere months ago. A woman that he had watched longingly through magazines or interviews.

Someone that he had watched as she stood on top of a podium as he stood there, looking up to her. 

He had thought that after reaching F1, after finally sharing the same track as her, the gap between the two of them would feel smaller. That he has a chance to reach her someday. But somehow, ever since he met her during testing, it only made him realize how large the gap between the two of them is. 

Y/n had always been really nice to him. She had welcomed him ever since their first meeting with an open arm, even willing to talk to him after a bad weekend for her. Hell, they even jog together earlier in the week!

But there’s still a gap between the two of them. The gap is so wide that Charles will probably have to spend years to close it.

That’s why he didn’t expect the woman to acknowledge him. He doesn’t have any expectations of any interaction with the woman outside of a small nod of acknowledgment or a small wave from across the room. But y/n had smiled so wide and blinding that it had lit up the room. She had waved her arms, yelling at him-

“Charles?”

Charles blinked, head snapping towards the other driver who was standing in front of him.

“You’re spacing out,” said the woman with a grin. “I was asking you if you want anything to drink?”

“Ah!?” he yelped, straightening his posture on the cream-colored sofa that he was sitting on. “Uh- Water is fine! Really fine.”

God, why did he stutter!? Y/n was being nice to offer him to come up to her apartment to thank him! It’s not like something will happen-

Or maybe?

Nope. Nopenopenope. Forget that thought, Charles. Erase that thought immediately. It’s not good for his heart.

Oblivious to his internal panic, y/n let out a hum before she disappeared to where she thinks is the kitchen.

Now that the object of his panic had disappeared, he let his eyes finally take a look at his surroundings. It’s a penthouse at one of the apartment buildings in Monaco. Peeking through the window from his position, he could see the view of Monaco during the night from here.

It’s the track, he thought, averting his gaze from the window to the rest of the room, Watching the race from this place must’ve been amazing.

There are rows of helmets and trophies surrounding the television in front of him. He could see the helmets that y/n wore years back, as well as the countless of accolades that she had managed to gather throughout her career. His eyes linger on the three Driver’s Championship Trophies before finally averting his eyes from them with a great struggle.

It’s clear that this is an expensive apartment of the most luxurious ones in Monaco. 

But, he thought, after he finished looking around the room. It’s so bare.

While it’s completely furnished, Charles noticed a lack of any personal touches in the apartment. Besides the helmet and the trophy cabinet, the rest of the apartment looks like something out of a showroom.

Modern furniture that looked new and barely used. The color scheme of cream and white without any stain on any of the furniture. Spotless.

There are no photos or personal belongings. There’s no sign of this place being lived by someone. 

It’s cold.

The image of his childhood home appeared on his head. Of the rows and rows of family pictures scattered across the house. Of the small personal knick-knacks – his mother’s collection of fridge magnets, Arthur’s shoes being all over the place, Lorenzo’s tower of books being stuffed in one corner, or Charles’ collections of small figurines being placed on top of the counter. Everything that made his house a home. Everything that shows the personality of everyone who lives in the place.

“Did you wait long?” asked y/n, appearing again with two glasses of water in her hand. 

“No,” he answers immediately, swiveling his head towards the woman who takes a seat beside him. “Um- this is a nice house.”

Now that they’re in better lighting compared to the party earlier, he notices that she’s still wearing the dress that she wore for the party. It’s a red dress that hugged her delicate curves. Clearly, it was made to make her into an even more beautiful woman, something that he thought was not possible considering how beautiful she already was. 

Y/n raised an eyebrow at that before she let out a hum. “Thanks,” she said. “I didn’t decorate it, but it seems the interior designer did a good work.”

He flushed a bit at that. She sounds a bit detached. 

“So, are you nervous for tomorrow?” asked the woman, changing their topic. She reached towards her glass, gulping the water in one gulp. “Monaco had always been an exciting race for the reporters, so expect a lot of unexpected questions.”

“Yeah, my PR manager briefed me about things that I should pay attention to,” he replied, hands fidgeting with each other. “Do you have any tips?”

Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “Just don’t say anything stupid, I guess?” she laughed. “Other drivers – especially the experienced ones – like to say stupid shit. Don’t follow their example.”

Charles laughed at that. “Thanks, I wasn’t planning to, but I’ll take note nonetheless,” he said. 

“Please,” she said, grinning. “Considering how it is now, it would be funny if you went viral for all the wrong reasons during your first season here. And stressing your PR manager to the point they went bald, it’s a third-year driver exclusive package only.”

“Oh?” he said, amusement clear on his face. “Is that why your PR manager went bald?” He remembers the solemn man who accompanies y/n during interviews or who stands at the back of the room during a press conference.

He looks like a serious man. Someone who seems to always be looking or writing something on hie iPad. Now that he thinks about it, her PR manager seems to resemble the Porsche team principal a bit. Compared to his own PR manager, the manager has a lot more stress and a more rigid smile.

“I’m saying that because of experience, you know,” said y/n, grin only widening as she plopped back on the sofa, shoulder relaxing. “He went bald because of all the antics that I did during my first year here. I swear, he already tried to leave the team several times since then.”

Charles knows what she means by all the antics that she did during her first year here.

First year y/n had been different from the current y/n. She always speaks so brazenly and basically always challenges the media and everyone every chance she gets. She openly gloats in front of older drivers and criticizes them harshly. She underestimated reporters and always gave them the middle finger. Not caring for her reputation.

It was a far cry from her current media darling image.

But well, the media was harsh during those years. They mercilessly and brutally demeaned her. Always looking at her with pity and questionable gaze. Gazes that didn’t believe in her worth as a driver. The label that they had put into her – the female driver who managed to get into F1 through connections – had almost harmed her reputation countless times during her first year in the sport.

To think that she’s a three-time driver champion now.

“You must’ve watched a lot of the Monaco GP, huh?” asked y/n, head propped on her hand. 

“Yeah,” he said. “One of my friends has an apartment right by the track; we usually watched it there.”

She let out a low whistle before her gaze turned towards one of the large windows that the apartment provides. “You can see the race too from here, apparently,” said the other driver. “It was one of the realtor’s main selling points. They say you can basically watch the Monaco GP for basically free of charge from here. Well, it’s not like I’ve ever been here during the races.”

Charles blinked. “What about your friends and family?” he asked.

“I don’t think I have enough trust in most of my friends to just hand them the key to this place,” she said wryly. “And the ones that I trust enough would’ve probably watched it from the garage.”

At this, she went quiet for a bit. Charles let her.

“And family? My dad owns the team. He’ll watch it from the garage too. Or the VIP Lounge.”

Oh yeah, he almost forgot the fact.

It seems this is a topic that she doesn’t want to divulge further. Charles won’t press if she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Hastily, he tried to change the topic. “So, do you have any favorite race? I mean- races that you like to watch when you’re not driving.”

“Oh?” she said, intrigued. The female driver seems to be thinking about the answer for some time before she finally decides. “I don’t really watch other categories, though. Maybe Moto GP? I don’t know how to drive a motorcycle, so I thought it would be interesting to watch.”

“You can’t drive a motorcycle?” he laughed. It’s a bit of an absurd thinking that there’s a vehicle that y/n l/n can’t ride. The woman is an absolute monster in an F1 car after all. With the way she drives during races, Charles believes that there’s no vehicle in the world that she can’t drive. “That’s a bit unexpected.”

“I specialize in driving cars if you haven’t noticed,” she stopped a bit at this. “I know how to drive a bike, though!” she frowned. “I just don’t understand how Moto GP drivers are able to drive their motorcycle that close to the ground during the turns. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“They would say the same thing every time they watch us drive a car 350 km per hour with barely any protections,” he said drily.

Y/n let out an amused laugh at that. “What can you say? It is an extreme sport. F1 that is. It’s actually pretty safe now,” she said. “There’s a lot of debate regarding the halo, but I thought it’s a good addition if it means it will make us safer.”

Jules, he thought, almost idly. Of the smiling man who often frequented his house ever since he was young. Of the man who always readily gave him any kind of advice that he needed.

Of the man who had basically saved his racing career.

If the Halo had come into existence years before, the man probably would still be here. Laughing and talking with Charles on the grid.

He perished any thought of what if.

“What about you?” asked y/n. “What’s your favorite race that you’ve ever watched?”

The answer is easier than what he had expected. It’s a bit terrifying to be honest, how one race can have so much impact for him even after so many years had passed. After all, it had become one of the most integral memories that he has.

Charles can remember it almost vividly. In 2012, he’s still in the middle of transitioning into the international karting series. Still, a budding race driver that hasn’t had the chance to try a single-seater car.

During that year, just like any other year during that time of the year, he had arrived at one of his friend’s apartments that’s overlooking the racing track. He had been excited to watch Ferrari and their two drivers. To see if they can regain their glory once again just like during their golden years.

He remembers standing there with his friends, laughter echoing through the air and the sound of the F1 car wheezing beneath them echoing through the country.

Of him watching the Monaco GP on his friend’s apartment balcony. Of the thrum of his blood and heart as he watched the race happen underneath it. Imagining the far-off possibility of him being able to do the race in the future. Of his want and greed to achieve his dream as an F1 driver.

Of him, for the very first time, not watching the red car on track.

Of how his gaze keeps going back to the midnight black car. A car with the color of the night sky in the middle of Monaco’s road.

Of the woman who had climbed out of the car with a race suit as dark as her car. The bright white helmet is a stark contrast to the overall theme of her team. Then, the woman opened her helmet, hair tumbling down out of the helmet, and something even brighter than the helmet appeared on the woman’s lips.

He watched as the woman let out a loud laugh, basically running towards her team – also all clad in black, shrouded in darkness – as they celebrated her podium together.

The same smile that’s etched across the woman’s face during the podium. Of him staring at her, awe clear on his face.

“Your first Monaco GP,” he answered, staring at the woman that had been standing on the 2012 Monaco GP podium and now, sitting right next to him.

Funny how life works.

Y/n blinked. “Oh?” she asked, head tilting. It’s clear that she didn’t expect that answer from him. “Any special reason for that?”

Monaco GP, in y/n’s dazzling first season as an F1 driver, doesn’t have any notable feat or any personal record. She didn’t win the race, and it was not her first podium. It was not the race where she scored her first points, nor it is her first race in F1.

It’s just that-

“It was the race where I became a fan of you,” Charles answered with a grin. Still remembered the thunder inside his chest and the intense want that appeared in him as he watched the race. “You were amazing in that race.”

It was the race that erased any kind of prejudice that he had for her. The race that had proved him wrong. The race that had shown him how bright y/n l/n is.

How she is an amazing race driver.

How she was one of the greatest that he had ever seen.

It was the race, that shows how much y/n l/n loves racing. The race that shows how much she loves being a Formula 1 driver despite the many many critics that were aimed towards her. How the woman, couldn’t care less about anything as long as she’s able to reach for the stars.

To Charles, that’s one of the amazing qualities that y/n possessed. One of the things that he admires so much of her. 

Y/n chuckled. “That’s sweet, you know?” she said, reaching her hand towards his hair to ruffle it. 

Charles won’t lie and say that the gesture didn’t fluster him. The warmth of y/n’s hand is a comforting weight on top of his head. How almost immediately, his mind cleared up as he stared at the woman in front of him. Of her bright eyes and how the light cast a beautiful shadow across her face.

Beautiful, he thought. He knows that y/n is beautiful, but this is insane.

Charles is going insane.

Going to y/n’s apartment this late at night is an insane decision for him. Sitting here on her sofa, with a glass of water in front of him and y/n herself sitting next to him, is an insane decision that he made. Having a casual conversation like this with her while she’s looking so beautiful and in that dress is insane for him.

This is insane, but Charles likes it. Charles loves it. He loves it too much that he craves for more.

(Greedy, he thinks.)

There were thousands of things that he wanted to say, and yet it stuck in his throat as if he didn’t know how to talk. As if the words are too big and too complicated for him to process. He gulped, not believing himself to not say anything stupid. “What about other racing categories that you want to try out?” asked Charles instead, trying to stop the ringing in his ear and the blood rushing towards his face. 

Y/n retracted her hand. He missed the warmth almost immediately, barely stopping himself from chasing it.

“I think the 24-hour Le Mans would be interesting,” she said, toying with a lock of her hair. “it’s a fascinating concept.”

Charles has to agree on that. “Le Mans sounds awesome; I also want to try it somewhere in the future.”

“Should we partner up then?” she said, leaning forward, smiling. “Me, you, and probably… Max?”

His previous good mood immediately soured at the mention of his rival. “Why Max?” he complained, immediately remembering the Dutch throughout their karting days and other less-than-pleasant memories.

“I want to see the both of you bicker with each other.”

Charles spluttered, face reddening. He didn’t think that his rivalry with Max was that obvious to the point that y/n would take notice.

The woman seems to take some kind of amusement in his internal struggle. “What? You didn’t think it was obvious?” she asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Maybe it was. He didn’t know. He can’t seem to think whenever he’s around y/n.

“Well-“

Y/n actually let out a large laugh at, head thrown back as if he just said the most amusing thing in the world. “You’re really cute, you know?”

Cute.

Cutecutecute.

She called him cute. What in the ever-loving fuck is happening? He doesn’t know. He can’t comprehend this. He wants to understand. Desperately so. Before he’s saying something so stupid that he’ll regret it for the rest of his life-

“You’re beautiful,” blurted out Charles.

It took him a couple of seconds to realize what he just said, and his previous attempt of trying to stop the blood from rushing to his face immediately failed as he could feel how red and hot his face was. He can only sit there, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. Not quite believing the words that he had just said.

Y/n, too, is still sitting in front of him and staring at him. 

He doesn’t know how much time passed between them. Maybe it’s mere seconds. Or maybe it’s hours. All he could think about was his own panicked heart and how beautiful y/n was in front of him.

All of a sudden, a smile appeared on her face. Her hand, which was previously toying with her hair, reached forward, cradling his face almost delicately. Charles gaped, the mind can’t process the sudden warmth and softness that he could feel from y/n’s hand on his face.

What-

What is happening!?

At that, y/n suddenly leaned forward, their shoulders touching as she stopped so close to his face that he swears that she could hear the sound of his heart. It’s hot. The air is hot. Her breath was hot as she sat there, staring at Charles as if she could see his very soul.

“You know you’re sweet, right?” she said, almost a whisper. 

He can’t breathe.

Almost instinctively, he closed his eyes, feeling her breath caress his lips, and at that moment, he could almost taste the softness of her lips-

A finger bopped his nose.

Immediately, he opens his eyes. Bright green eyes stared at y/n own bright ones, and he could see the teasing smile on the woman’s face.

“Ah,” she breathed out, still so close and her hand still cradling his face. He can still feel their breath intertwining together, and his mind still can’t process what is happening. “Are you expecting something else, mon chéri?”

Fuck, he thought, still staring at the woman in front of him with wide eyes. Fuck fuck fuck.

Charles can’t hear anything from how loud the ringing is on his ear as well as the blood rushing on top. He wants to look somewhere else, somewhere else that’s safer for his racing heart. But oddly, he can’t look away.

He can only stare at this woman in front of him. The woman who is still staring at him with that bright eyes of her and that amused smile.

“I-!” said Charles, abruptly standing up, creating some distance between the two of them. “I need to-!”

What does he need to do?

(Y/n sitting there so close to him. Breathe hot on his lips and their shoulder touching each other. He can feel the warmth that he craved so badly before on his face. Cradling it almost delicately.

Y/n is sitting there, eyes bright as she stares at Charles. Looking at his soul.

He would’ve borne the entirety of his soul to her if she asked to.)

He needs to go.

“I need to go!” he announced, trying not to look at y/n. Trying to forget her bright eyes and the way she cradled his face.

He needs-

He needs to-

Charles needs a cold shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow-“ he stared at the clock. It’s the next day already. They have media day today. Charles will need to focus. “I mean, see you later!” continued the man as he marched towards the front door, not even daring to look back.

He thinks that if he ever looked back, if he ever caught a glimpse of y/n there still in that beautiful dress that she was wearing for the party earlier, he would never go home. He would stay and only able enough nerve to stare at her dumbly. It’s almost a vain attempt as suddenly, he could hear y/n’s laugh ringing across the apartment.

It’s a beautiful sound, just like her. Everything about her is beautiful. From her self to her soul.

Stopping at the front door, he reached towards the doorknob before his resolve crumbled, and he looked back for one last time.

Y/n is still sitting there, leaning back on the sofa. One of her dress’ thin straps had fallen from one shoulder as she stared at him with an amused smile clear on her face. Her hair cascaded down her back, and her bright eyes were clearly staring at him, something he can’t quite comprehend already in her eyes.

“Goodbye, Char,” she said, giving him a wave. Something so similar that she had done to him earlier tonight during the party. “See you later.”

The path between y/n’s apartment and his car is a blur. He didn’t remember how he arrived at his car. However, the moment he entered the vehicle, he let out a groan as he leaned forward, clutching the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice muffled. “This is bad.”

He thinks not even a cold shower will help.

Y/n sat there, staring at the door that had been slammed close by the younger driver.

Sighing, she leaned back on the sofa. “This is bad,” muttered the woman, cradling her hot face with her hand.

A flash of Charles’ face appeared on her mind. Of his flushed face and reddened ear. Of his wide eyes and hands that just won’t stop fiddling with each other ever since he arrived at her apartment.

Of a stray thought that appeared on her mind throughout her conversation with Charles.

Cute.

“This is bad,” she repeated, sounding resigned. “It’s so fun to tease him like that.”

Will it be a sin to do it some more?

taglist!

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[rosberggp]

[cherry-leclerc]

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 4.1k

*can you guess what film it's based off of? i practically laid the answer out in front of you guys lol

ch. one ch. two

-

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

The Spaniard shifts uncomfortably before taking a step back. You had read all about him - of course you had - but how were you supposed to know he would be here? For sure you were drooling by how in shock you were, but you couldn’t find the strength to pick your jaw off the floor. 

And then it got worse.

“Carlos, you won’t believe what I just saw! A Stormtrooper just got slapped by some ballerina! I mean he was kind of asking for it - he grabbed her and she just…” He mimics a dramatic strike as Carlos chuckles. “Best night of my life.”

The brown eyed man quirks a dark brow towards the lousy looking Super Mario. “This is my friend, Lando.” He leans closer to your ear. “He’s not normal.”

“Hey,” the Brit warns as he fixes his overalls, then blushes. “I-It was such short notice.”

Bewildered, you let out soft pants as you pat your chest over and over. The two men share a concerned look. “Are you feeling okay?” Would it be the worst thing in the world to bolt out the door and fly back home? Eyeing the entrance, you contemplate it for a bit but then you hear the familiar accent.

“She's yeigh high, won’t stop talking even if you beg her to…”

“I’m fine!” The pair flinch at the sudden burst. “I’m just going to pop out and take a breather.”

“There you are.” Your stomach drops. Charles raises his brows in a curious manner at the back heads of Carlos and Lando as you weigh your options. You can deal with this - pretend none of this was actually happening. But instead you do what you do best.

“Where are you-”

Pushing past the crowd, you make your way out the door. Once you take a step outside, you look both ways before shaking your head and running down the street. You receive weird looks, but don’t bother to care. There wasn’t an exact destination in mind, but anything was better than dealing with whatever that was. 

Loud footsteps make your spine tingle with uneasiness as you turn around. And this has to be some sort of nightmare because a Stormtrooper, heist man, and Super Mario chase after you. You sprint faster, often taking glances back as Charles tries to catch his breath.

“Where the fuck are you going? Are you crazy?” he shouts as Carlos and Lando stop, immediately recognizing his voice. You stop dead in your tracks as Charles inches closer. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he shakes you harshly. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t just run off like that!”

“I-I…” You spot the two friends as they mutter at each other, walking closer. Feverishly, you shake your head, headache coming in strong. “I needed air-”

Cold eyes narrow down like knives. “That’s fine, but couldn’t you have gone through a more sane route?” You’re a blubbering mess, jumbling out non-existing words as the Monegasque wrestles to decipher them all. 

That sounds just like Leclerc, or am I going insane? Lando murmurs as Carlos nods silently. Kind of, but we should help her. What if he’s just some creep? 

The duo are about to reach you and your roommate when you land on what seems like the worst idea, but reluctantly, saves you. Tippy toeing, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck before pressing your lips onto his. He stiffens. 

“Oh umm…so…they’re not strangers.”

The Spaniard’ eyes grow wide. “Definitely not. We should probably leave them alone.”

Making their way back to the party, you sigh with relief against the brunette’s pink lips as you relax your feet down onto the pavement. But this only leads to the green eyed boy to angle himself lower and continue the kiss. Pushing him back sharply, you shriek.

“No!”

He jumps with high alert. “Wh-what’s wrong?”

Rosy cheeks flush furthermore as you rub your eyes harshly. “This…this is wrong.” A beat. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The Monegasque lets out a small laugh before running a large hand against his stubble. “But I thought-”

“I know,” you chant. “But it wasn’t the right thing to do. I got lost in the moment and that’s my fault, but we’re friends, Charles. That was…weird.”

His heart stops from your sudden burst. Bruised is an understatement. He won’t say he has a crush - God, it’s only been a couple of days of knowing you - but it would be an outright lie if he said a kiss hadn’t crossed his mind. But did you have to be so unfazed by it all?

A raw cough rings through the air, only soft music being heard as you two awkwardly stare at each other. “It was kind of weird.” A forced chuckle makes its way up your throat as you rub your arm. “I also got lost in the gist of it all, don’t feel too bad.”

“We’re good then?” 

He nods, lips stretched out into a knowing smile. “Yes.”

You whistle. “Thank God. I wouldn’t want things to get…”

“Me too.” He winks teasingly. “Just answer me one thing; Was I any good?”

Unable to keep eye contact, you softly smack his suit. “What are you tal- I was.” He wiggles his dark brows. Stop lying. You gape at him. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore!” He chuckles. 

“Do you want to go back, or?”

“Or.”

-

Unlocking the door, the Monegasque steps aside as you thank him, brushing past his tall figure and making your way onto the couch. “I don’t think I could ever party again. Might just have to accept my fate.”

The white cloud plunges down as he takes a seat next to your tired state. “Which is?”

“That I’m old.” You sit up straight as you point an accusing finger up at him. He tilts his head. “Correction - we’re both old.”

A hand slaps your mouth shut as you squeal against it. “I think it might just be you.” Yoomphtoofth, you muffle as you try to wiggle free from his strong grip. “Let me know if you disagree.”

Licking his hand, he yelps as he pulls away, immediately drying himself against your tutu. You smirk. “Asshole.” He narrows his eyes. Shrugging him off, you curl your legs up to your chest. “Truce?” Glaring at your hand, he questions it for a second before hesitantly shaking it. Tugging it towards your mouth, he lets out a high pitched squeak as you lick it. 

“You’re a heathen,” he shrieks as you throw your head back laughing. Relax. You’ve already kissed me. “You kissed me, let's not forget.” You blush. Suddenly I’m feeling very tired. Off to bed I go.

Staring with slight amusement, he waves you off. When you come to a halt, sleepy eyes reconnect with yours. “I know you said it’s fine for me to keep the bed and you the couch, but I’m willing to share now that I trust you.” 

A playful scoff escapes. “I’m flattered.” You stick your tongue out, aiming your ballet shoe at him. He dodges it before comedically scowling. “It’s fine, you can keep it. Hopefully it helps tend to your nasty attitude. You should seriously get that checked out.”

You huff, foot stopping against the wooden tiles. “And I’m sure you’re getting a hump back, so by all means stay in your microscopic couch.” Green eyes bulge out with worry as he runs into the room. 

“On second thought, I think we should share!”

-

So he’s a cuddler. You learn so very quickly when he instinctively drapes his hand over your belly. You try to wrestle free for a while before you realize how nice it feels. A few seconds tick by before you drift off to sleep. 

The strong beams that slither past the curtains are enough to shake the Monegasque awake. Groaning, he squints his eyes as he analyzes his surroundings. It takes a second for him to register how close you are, and even worse, how his arm lays over your delicate figure.

Flinging it away, he scoots back. You toss and turn for a while before you lazily rub your eyes. Was there an earthquake? Charles opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. You raise an expectant brow. T’was my imagination? “Must have been,” he croaks, a raspy voice bouncing off the walls. “How about some breakfast?”

After a strong counter argument on your behalf, he eventually complies and strolls out the door, set to get some breakfast for you both. It should have been for the best to tidy up the bed, clean up a bit.

Definitely not hunt for a small journal.

Guilt resurfaces as you open the side drawer, finding it empty. What were you doing? Charles has been nothing but good to you - he was someone you considered your friend. Maybe it was for the best, it was a bit too invasive.

Your tummy grumbles as you glare at the clock, time slowly passing by and still no sign of the Monegasque. Dragging your feet to the living room, you shamelessly plop onto the couch when you spot an oddly familiar item. The brown diary.

You can feel the way your eyes sparkled with merriment as a delirious laugh ringed past your dry lips. It had been dug between the pillows begging to be let out. To be skimmed through. Analyzed. Soft fingers trace the front cover as your breath hitches. 

This doesn’t have to happen. You didn’t have to do any of this. You could be honest, admit what you’re doing, that you know who he is and how that would change nothing between you two, and that you needed this. He would understand. But the thin pages were luring you in by every passing second he doesn’t walk past that door. A tiny peek won’t hurt.

You can’t tell how much time has passed, but the moment you hear keys jingling, you hurriedly stash it back in its original hiding spot and rush over to the terrace overlooking Amalfi. Strong accent calls out for you as you holler back. With a sheepish smile, he hands you a box of crepes. Grazie. 

His green eyes flicker with evident panic, though he tries not to show it. “Hey, have you seen a small journal by any chance? It’s sort of important.” As quickly as you started, you stopped munching and immediately started to choke. A large hand pats your back as you inch away as if he held a deadly disease. 

“N-no I have not.” You brush your hair back, suddenly hot. “Is it that big a deal?”

The brunette shrugs but reluctantly nods. “I write down my feelings sometimes. Helps me cope with lots of things.” An appreciated and honest expression maps itself between his soft features. “Though I think I found a new outlet.” Your heart stops as he glazes over the open scenery. “Still, I should go look for it.”

Left hollow and sick, you burn with fury towards yourself. You should have let it go, but God, why did you have to ruin everything? 

The day settles with a drive around town with a navy Vespa. Charles had bought it on a whim when you gushed over the idea of adventuring in true old fashion. Just like Princess Anne and Joe Bradley. Snuggling your head with a hideous helmet, you pout as he clicks it securely before working on his own. “This is not what I had in mind.”

He clicks his tongue. “Rather be safe than sorry.”

“This is only going to mess with my hair. I planned this outfit to perfection, Cha! And look!” You give him a quick twirl as he rolls his eyes at the dramatic gesture. “Now you’ve ruined it.”

“Just get on.”

Bumpy road makes you squeal with hysteria as you cling on extra tight around his waist. You can hear his croaky laughter as he swerves to avoid crashing into a fruit stand. Scusa! “You’re going to get us killed, and contrary to belief, I would love to live!” 

“Would you relax? I know what I’m doing.”

Once you make it out of the busy village, you’re actually able to enjoy the ride. You even try to convince him to play a round of i-Spy with you, though that later backfires when you accuse him of cheating. You’re in the heat of your one-sided argument when he pulls into an abandoned church. Hopping off, you lay your arms firmly against your hips. “What is all this?”

It goes unannounced, but he quietly makes his way over to creaky doors. “Would you like to find out?” With a decent round of skepticism, you begrudgingly follow. I don’t see what there could possibly be in here. Why don’t we just go for ice cream? Bringing a finger up to his lips, he signals for you to hush. Doe eyes flutter with curiosity as he makes his way to the altar. 

As soon as he kneels down, you awkwardly kick your leg around as you puff your cheeks. You hum slowly as you watch the way he remains still for a while, eyes closed. 

“Should I let you have a moment, or…” Be quiet, he hisses. You weren’t necessarily religious but you figured you should give him some space. The sound of old wood crumbles underneath your feet as you walk down the steps. I fucking got it! 

You gasp loudly as you recklessly spin around to find him pulling pieces of wood, clearly destroying the already grubby floor. “I’m not that close with the man up above, but I’m almost sure you can’t say shit like that in here, even if it’s abandoned.” You slap your mouth shut as his eyes glimmer with amusement. Heat rises up to your cheeks. “I’m also sure you can’t be doing this! It’s private property.”

“Who’s going to stop me?” he childishly murmurs as he continues with his careless task. “Ouch,” he yelps when a splinter digs through his finger. 

“Serves you right.”

Glaring up at your smug figure, the brunette waves you over. “Instead of just standing there, you should help me.” 

“With what? There’s nothing valuable here! What are you even looking for?”

With a minor annoyance, he fiercely kicks through the board as it lets loose as cracks. Thunder rumbles as you shake your head with disapproval. You’ve done it. You made God mad, I hope you’re happy. Only, he’s grinning ear to ear as he shows off a small box. You tilt your head with clear confusion as he dashes up to you. 

“I can’t believe it’s still here after all these years.” There’s a trace of disbelief and adoration as he takes in the dusty package. There’s a whole galaxy shining within his watercolor eyes when he looks up at you. Your breath gets stuck in your throat.

Blinking rapidly, you gently run your finger across it, skin instantly becoming a dark shade of brown as you scrunch your nose. “What is it?” Your eyebrows arch into a sympathetic peer. “Oh no…did you bury a hamster or something like that in there?”

Tears well up in your eyes as you tap the wood in a downhearted state. “No, you ghoul.” He tenderly opens it up. Pulling out a golden pin, your eyes widen as The Prancing Horse reflects back towards you both. 

“My father left this here for me.” You heart swells at the sensitive mention. Charles had told you about his fathers death a few nights ago, so you were still new with deciding how to react. “He said he would, and he did.”

“That’s really sweet,” you whisper, hand pressing against his broad shoulder. “What does it mean?” And it takes you a while to realize that you weren’t asking for your benefit, but rather because you wanted to learn more about the Monegasque. Any crumb felt like a feast to you. 

It appears as if he’s playing the words in his head as he runs his thumb against it. “My dad helped build this church when I was 6. It helped bring in a bit of money for the family.” Your eyes glimmer attentively as you nod. “When I had time to get away from boxing…yeah, boxing…he would bring me and my older brother to carry wood. Arthur was much younger.” 

His Golden Goose tapped against the brown ground for further classification. “Maman would get upset at him, saying we were just babies, but we didn’t mind at all.” A gray cloud paints his eyes as he twists his lips. “I’m glad we did that, now that I’m older.”

“You must really miss him,” you mumble, glassy eyes shining back at him. He lets out a sorrowful smile. 

“I do.” A beat. “But what am I doing acting like I’m the only one who’s had it tough?” Dark brows form a sharp V as he signals to you. “Oh, because of you and your relationship with your parents-”

“I got that,” you scowl with a lighthearted glare. The corner of his lips lift. “But my situation is nothing compared to yours. Sure, my parents and I aren’t close - not enough for my liking - but at least they’re alive.” He flinches slightly as you cradle his face. “I-”

“I know,” he reassures you with a small smile. “He was the best. Always put his family first; his son's dreams were his priority.” He raises the golden pin. “One night after dinner, he mentioned how he hid a small horse somewhere in the church, so that when the time was right, I would go back and look for it. I was covetous, wanted it right there and then. So, I worked up the courage to ask everyone around if they had seen a horse. They looked at me as if I was crazy.” He chuckles.

“He found out and sat me down. Told me it didn’t work like that. My biggest dream was to own a Ferrari, just like everyone in Monaco hopes to. He believed in me, swore that if I worked hard enough, then I could do it. Only then would I know where the mysterious pin was.”

“Lorenzo, my older brother, knew there was a key for…” He signals sheepishly at the wooden floor, a lock hidden in plain sight as he blushes. “I guess I never really learned how to be patient. I barely figured it out a few days ago, when you kicked the cabinet door open.”

You gape. “It was jammed.”

He snickers. “It reminded me of something he had said after he painted the walls. Only the toughest can kick without feeling any regret. He would have loved you, that much I know.”

Flustered, you twirl the hem of your dress. “You’re saying I’m a horse?”

“You’re definitely abnormal.” Your shoulders droop. “All I’m saying is that you helped me find the missing piece. And that means a lot.”

“But you don’t own a Ferrari yet,” you retorted, even though only you knew, you knew the truth, but he doesn’t bat an eye, only clips the pin onto your dress. 

“One day I will.” He winks. “Until then, you can take care of this for me.”

-

“Two more weeks, huh?”

Forcing a spoonful of gelato into his mouth, you pout. He struggles to digest the berry treat. “That’s kind of sad. I think I’ll actually miss you, Charles.” 

His lips curl. “I know I’ll miss you.” Brown hair flows against the summer breeze. “But it doesn’t have to end like this. We can still see each other. Right?”

“Uh…”

He would find out eventually once the article was published and he would hold every right to hate you. To not want to see you again. Your lack of response has him pinching his face. “You don’t want to?”

Scrambling like a clumsy giraffe, you fidle with a nearby pillow. “I do! But when would we have the time?” You’re going to be too busy racing and hating my guts, you want to spit out when he beams back at you.

“I would make the time just for you.”

Your heart clenches. Could he just be honest? Open up to you. You would gladly do the same, but he needed to do this first to give you the courage to own up to your secrets. Lips part, then purse. “Charles, I-” A ring lingers in the air as he tips his head, giving to the go-ahead. Excusing yourself, you march into the sunny room.

“Yes, hello?”

“How’s vacation?” Eleanor’s rich voice enters your ears as you squirm. 

“Vacation?” you squeak.

She sighs. “I’m obviously kidding. Can’t you tell that I’m kidding?” A nervous giggle flutters as you hum back at her. She continues. “Anyways, that's not what I called you for. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. My injuries are much better. Doc says I can have the casts removed in a week-”

“Let me rephrase. I wanted to check up on your work. Progress.”

“Of course,” you say. “I actually have it done. It just needs a few more rounds of proof-reading, but I’m sure I can send it to you by…” You stare at the calendar. “Two weeks.”

Eleanor clicks her tongue in disapproval. “No, I need it by Friday. Nothing past that.” 

Your stomach lurches. “Eleanor, I can’t.” And why not? Biting down on your nails, you peek over to where the brunette sun bathes, or naps, you can’t tell. I need two weeks because by then I’ll be gone and won’t have to deal with a certain driver detesting me. You understand, right? But you don’t say any of that.

“You said it was an exclusive. I need this,” she warns, subtle threat lacing his voice. “We’re talking about one of the most sought-out drivers in all of Formula One. Do you realize what this could do for your career? If you nail this right in the eye, you might even become my right hand. And you know it’s only up from there, sweetheart. Friday.”

“Friday.”

That same night, the sound of your digits hitting the keyboard are the only thing being heard. Charles tries to sneak a peek, but when you cry out stating you were helping a friend get over a break up, he took a step back and scrolled through his phone.

Stellar job…The most…Amazing…

A frustrated growl escapes you as you fist your hands. Taking a look, Charles can’t help but grin. Often misunderstood, the 26 year old deals with lots of… “Argh!” His eyes widened. 

“That bad, huh? What did he do to your poor friend?”

“What?” you rudely retort, but quickly try to ease your breathing. “Right. Um. Yeah, men are shit.”

“Of course we are,” he replies warmly. “How about you take a break? If you’re getting too riled up, you won’t do her any good. Just refresh and come back to it. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

But the blank space has you stressed as you circle back to what Eleanor said over the phone. You had perfect this. “I have to do this. Help her, I mean. Now.” 

“You’re too kind.” It’s as if a loving glow towers over his face as he sits at the edge of the bed. “I admire that.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. But seriously, let's go for a walk.”

Despite the sun setting, he of course wears his famous Raybans and a Boston hat lounged over his curly hair. His killer mullet was rolling in as you licked your lips at the dreamy sight.

Wait. No. 

With a secretive glance, you find him whistling an unknown tune. Though he wears the darkest shade of sunglasses, you can still feel his warm gaze. Though his luscious hair is draped with an old hat, you can still distinguish his shampoo scent. His body next to yours is enough to make your inside flip as you shake your head abruptly.

This was Charles. Just a friend. A friend for the time being, at least. There was no room to form a crush now. You settled on the fact that he was just merely attractive. That you can do - admit.

“I was serious about what I said earlier today. I will visit you wherever you are.” Green eyes flicker over to you. “You’ve become one of the most important persons in my life. A good friend to have around.”

Your heart for some reason shatters as you squint your eyes at the golden sun. “Right after Amelia and Roman, you are someone I consider a friend, too. I’m glad we met.” A peaceful silence lingers between you two as your heart thuds against your ribcage. “Charles-”

“I know you read my journal.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

[cherry-leclerc]

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 4.1k

*can you guess what film it's based off of? i practically laid the answer out in front of you guys lol

ch. one ch. two

-

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

The Spaniard shifts uncomfortably before taking a step back. You had read all about him - of course you had - but how were you supposed to know he would be here? For sure you were drooling by how in shock you were, but you couldn’t find the strength to pick your jaw off the floor. 

And then it got worse.

“Carlos, you won’t believe what I just saw! A Stormtrooper just got slapped by some ballerina! I mean he was kind of asking for it - he grabbed her and she just…” He mimics a dramatic strike as Carlos chuckles. “Best night of my life.”

The brown eyed man quirks a dark brow towards the lousy looking Super Mario. “This is my friend, Lando.” He leans closer to your ear. “He’s not normal.”

“Hey,” the Brit warns as he fixes his overalls, then blushes. “I-It was such short notice.”

Bewildered, you let out soft pants as you pat your chest over and over. The two men share a concerned look. “Are you feeling okay?” Would it be the worst thing in the world to bolt out the door and fly back home? Eyeing the entrance, you contemplate it for a bit but then you hear the familiar accent.

“She's yeigh high, won’t stop talking even if you beg her to…”

“I’m fine!” The pair flinch at the sudden burst. “I’m just going to pop out and take a breather.”

“There you are.” Your stomach drops. Charles raises his brows in a curious manner at the back heads of Carlos and Lando as you weigh your options. You can deal with this - pretend none of this was actually happening. But instead you do what you do best.

“Where are you-”

Pushing past the crowd, you make your way out the door. Once you take a step outside, you look both ways before shaking your head and running down the street. You receive weird looks, but don’t bother to care. There wasn’t an exact destination in mind, but anything was better than dealing with whatever that was. 

Loud footsteps make your spine tingle with uneasiness as you turn around. And this has to be some sort of nightmare because a Stormtrooper, heist man, and Super Mario chase after you. You sprint faster, often taking glances back as Charles tries to catch his breath.

“Where the fuck are you going? Are you crazy?” he shouts as Carlos and Lando stop, immediately recognizing his voice. You stop dead in your tracks as Charles inches closer. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he shakes you harshly. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t just run off like that!”

“I-I…” You spot the two friends as they mutter at each other, walking closer. Feverishly, you shake your head, headache coming in strong. “I needed air-”

Cold eyes narrow down like knives. “That’s fine, but couldn’t you have gone through a more sane route?” You’re a blubbering mess, jumbling out non-existing words as the Monegasque wrestles to decipher them all. 

That sounds just like Leclerc, or am I going insane? Lando murmurs as Carlos nods silently. Kind of, but we should help her. What if he’s just some creep? 

The duo are about to reach you and your roommate when you land on what seems like the worst idea, but reluctantly, saves you. Tippy toeing, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck before pressing your lips onto his. He stiffens. 

“Oh umm…so…they’re not strangers.”

The Spaniard’ eyes grow wide. “Definitely not. We should probably leave them alone.”

Making their way back to the party, you sigh with relief against the brunette’s pink lips as you relax your feet down onto the pavement. But this only leads to the green eyed boy to angle himself lower and continue the kiss. Pushing him back sharply, you shriek.

“No!”

He jumps with high alert. “Wh-what’s wrong?”

Rosy cheeks flush furthermore as you rub your eyes harshly. “This…this is wrong.” A beat. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The Monegasque lets out a small laugh before running a large hand against his stubble. “But I thought-”

“I know,” you chant. “But it wasn’t the right thing to do. I got lost in the moment and that’s my fault, but we’re friends, Charles. That was…weird.”

His heart stops from your sudden burst. Bruised is an understatement. He won’t say he has a crush - God, it’s only been a couple of days of knowing you - but it would be an outright lie if he said a kiss hadn’t crossed his mind. But did you have to be so unfazed by it all?

A raw cough rings through the air, only soft music being heard as you two awkwardly stare at each other. “It was kind of weird.” A forced chuckle makes its way up your throat as you rub your arm. “I also got lost in the gist of it all, don’t feel too bad.”

“We’re good then?” 

He nods, lips stretched out into a knowing smile. “Yes.”

You whistle. “Thank God. I wouldn’t want things to get…”

“Me too.” He winks teasingly. “Just answer me one thing; Was I any good?”

Unable to keep eye contact, you softly smack his suit. “What are you tal- I was.” He wiggles his dark brows. Stop lying. You gape at him. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore!” He chuckles. 

“Do you want to go back, or?”

“Or.”

-

Unlocking the door, the Monegasque steps aside as you thank him, brushing past his tall figure and making your way onto the couch. “I don’t think I could ever party again. Might just have to accept my fate.”

The white cloud plunges down as he takes a seat next to your tired state. “Which is?”

“That I’m old.” You sit up straight as you point an accusing finger up at him. He tilts his head. “Correction - we’re both old.”

A hand slaps your mouth shut as you squeal against it. “I think it might just be you.” Yoomphtoofth, you muffle as you try to wiggle free from his strong grip. “Let me know if you disagree.”

Licking his hand, he yelps as he pulls away, immediately drying himself against your tutu. You smirk. “Asshole.” He narrows his eyes. Shrugging him off, you curl your legs up to your chest. “Truce?” Glaring at your hand, he questions it for a second before hesitantly shaking it. Tugging it towards your mouth, he lets out a high pitched squeak as you lick it. 

“You’re a heathen,” he shrieks as you throw your head back laughing. Relax. You’ve already kissed me. “You kissed me, let's not forget.” You blush. Suddenly I’m feeling very tired. Off to bed I go.

Staring with slight amusement, he waves you off. When you come to a halt, sleepy eyes reconnect with yours. “I know you said it’s fine for me to keep the bed and you the couch, but I’m willing to share now that I trust you.” 

A playful scoff escapes. “I’m flattered.” You stick your tongue out, aiming your ballet shoe at him. He dodges it before comedically scowling. “It’s fine, you can keep it. Hopefully it helps tend to your nasty attitude. You should seriously get that checked out.”

You huff, foot stopping against the wooden tiles. “And I’m sure you’re getting a hump back, so by all means stay in your microscopic couch.” Green eyes bulge out with worry as he runs into the room. 

“On second thought, I think we should share!”

-

So he’s a cuddler. You learn so very quickly when he instinctively drapes his hand over your belly. You try to wrestle free for a while before you realize how nice it feels. A few seconds tick by before you drift off to sleep. 

The strong beams that slither past the curtains are enough to shake the Monegasque awake. Groaning, he squints his eyes as he analyzes his surroundings. It takes a second for him to register how close you are, and even worse, how his arm lays over your delicate figure.

Flinging it away, he scoots back. You toss and turn for a while before you lazily rub your eyes. Was there an earthquake? Charles opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. You raise an expectant brow. T’was my imagination? “Must have been,” he croaks, a raspy voice bouncing off the walls. “How about some breakfast?”

After a strong counter argument on your behalf, he eventually complies and strolls out the door, set to get some breakfast for you both. It should have been for the best to tidy up the bed, clean up a bit.

Definitely not hunt for a small journal.

Guilt resurfaces as you open the side drawer, finding it empty. What were you doing? Charles has been nothing but good to you - he was someone you considered your friend. Maybe it was for the best, it was a bit too invasive.

Your tummy grumbles as you glare at the clock, time slowly passing by and still no sign of the Monegasque. Dragging your feet to the living room, you shamelessly plop onto the couch when you spot an oddly familiar item. The brown diary.

You can feel the way your eyes sparkled with merriment as a delirious laugh ringed past your dry lips. It had been dug between the pillows begging to be let out. To be skimmed through. Analyzed. Soft fingers trace the front cover as your breath hitches. 

This doesn’t have to happen. You didn’t have to do any of this. You could be honest, admit what you’re doing, that you know who he is and how that would change nothing between you two, and that you needed this. He would understand. But the thin pages were luring you in by every passing second he doesn’t walk past that door. A tiny peek won’t hurt.

You can’t tell how much time has passed, but the moment you hear keys jingling, you hurriedly stash it back in its original hiding spot and rush over to the terrace overlooking Amalfi. Strong accent calls out for you as you holler back. With a sheepish smile, he hands you a box of crepes. Grazie. 

His green eyes flicker with evident panic, though he tries not to show it. “Hey, have you seen a small journal by any chance? It’s sort of important.” As quickly as you started, you stopped munching and immediately started to choke. A large hand pats your back as you inch away as if he held a deadly disease. 

“N-no I have not.” You brush your hair back, suddenly hot. “Is it that big a deal?”

The brunette shrugs but reluctantly nods. “I write down my feelings sometimes. Helps me cope with lots of things.” An appreciated and honest expression maps itself between his soft features. “Though I think I found a new outlet.” Your heart stops as he glazes over the open scenery. “Still, I should go look for it.”

Left hollow and sick, you burn with fury towards yourself. You should have let it go, but God, why did you have to ruin everything? 

The day settles with a drive around town with a navy Vespa. Charles had bought it on a whim when you gushed over the idea of adventuring in true old fashion. Just like Princess Anne and Joe Bradley. Snuggling your head with a hideous helmet, you pout as he clicks it securely before working on his own. “This is not what I had in mind.”

He clicks his tongue. “Rather be safe than sorry.”

“This is only going to mess with my hair. I planned this outfit to perfection, Cha! And look!” You give him a quick twirl as he rolls his eyes at the dramatic gesture. “Now you’ve ruined it.”

“Just get on.”

Bumpy road makes you squeal with hysteria as you cling on extra tight around his waist. You can hear his croaky laughter as he swerves to avoid crashing into a fruit stand. Scusa! “You’re going to get us killed, and contrary to belief, I would love to live!” 

“Would you relax? I know what I’m doing.”

Once you make it out of the busy village, you’re actually able to enjoy the ride. You even try to convince him to play a round of i-Spy with you, though that later backfires when you accuse him of cheating. You’re in the heat of your one-sided argument when he pulls into an abandoned church. Hopping off, you lay your arms firmly against your hips. “What is all this?”

It goes unannounced, but he quietly makes his way over to creaky doors. “Would you like to find out?” With a decent round of skepticism, you begrudgingly follow. I don’t see what there could possibly be in here. Why don’t we just go for ice cream? Bringing a finger up to his lips, he signals for you to hush. Doe eyes flutter with curiosity as he makes his way to the altar. 

As soon as he kneels down, you awkwardly kick your leg around as you puff your cheeks. You hum slowly as you watch the way he remains still for a while, eyes closed. 

“Should I let you have a moment, or…” Be quiet, he hisses. You weren’t necessarily religious but you figured you should give him some space. The sound of old wood crumbles underneath your feet as you walk down the steps. I fucking got it! 

You gasp loudly as you recklessly spin around to find him pulling pieces of wood, clearly destroying the already grubby floor. “I’m not that close with the man up above, but I’m almost sure you can’t say shit like that in here, even if it’s abandoned.” You slap your mouth shut as his eyes glimmer with amusement. Heat rises up to your cheeks. “I’m also sure you can’t be doing this! It’s private property.”

“Who’s going to stop me?” he childishly murmurs as he continues with his careless task. “Ouch,” he yelps when a splinter digs through his finger. 

“Serves you right.”

Glaring up at your smug figure, the brunette waves you over. “Instead of just standing there, you should help me.” 

“With what? There’s nothing valuable here! What are you even looking for?”

With a minor annoyance, he fiercely kicks through the board as it lets loose as cracks. Thunder rumbles as you shake your head with disapproval. You’ve done it. You made God mad, I hope you’re happy. Only, he’s grinning ear to ear as he shows off a small box. You tilt your head with clear confusion as he dashes up to you. 

“I can’t believe it’s still here after all these years.” There’s a trace of disbelief and adoration as he takes in the dusty package. There’s a whole galaxy shining within his watercolor eyes when he looks up at you. Your breath gets stuck in your throat.

Blinking rapidly, you gently run your finger across it, skin instantly becoming a dark shade of brown as you scrunch your nose. “What is it?” Your eyebrows arch into a sympathetic peer. “Oh no…did you bury a hamster or something like that in there?”

Tears well up in your eyes as you tap the wood in a downhearted state. “No, you ghoul.” He tenderly opens it up. Pulling out a golden pin, your eyes widen as The Prancing Horse reflects back towards you both. 

“My father left this here for me.” You heart swells at the sensitive mention. Charles had told you about his fathers death a few nights ago, so you were still new with deciding how to react. “He said he would, and he did.”

“That’s really sweet,” you whisper, hand pressing against his broad shoulder. “What does it mean?” And it takes you a while to realize that you weren’t asking for your benefit, but rather because you wanted to learn more about the Monegasque. Any crumb felt like a feast to you. 

It appears as if he’s playing the words in his head as he runs his thumb against it. “My dad helped build this church when I was 6. It helped bring in a bit of money for the family.” Your eyes glimmer attentively as you nod. “When I had time to get away from boxing…yeah, boxing…he would bring me and my older brother to carry wood. Arthur was much younger.” 

His Golden Goose tapped against the brown ground for further classification. “Maman would get upset at him, saying we were just babies, but we didn’t mind at all.” A gray cloud paints his eyes as he twists his lips. “I’m glad we did that, now that I’m older.”

“You must really miss him,” you mumble, glassy eyes shining back at him. He lets out a sorrowful smile. 

“I do.” A beat. “But what am I doing acting like I’m the only one who’s had it tough?” Dark brows form a sharp V as he signals to you. “Oh, because of you and your relationship with your parents-”

“I got that,” you scowl with a lighthearted glare. The corner of his lips lift. “But my situation is nothing compared to yours. Sure, my parents and I aren’t close - not enough for my liking - but at least they’re alive.” He flinches slightly as you cradle his face. “I-”

“I know,” he reassures you with a small smile. “He was the best. Always put his family first; his son's dreams were his priority.” He raises the golden pin. “One night after dinner, he mentioned how he hid a small horse somewhere in the church, so that when the time was right, I would go back and look for it. I was covetous, wanted it right there and then. So, I worked up the courage to ask everyone around if they had seen a horse. They looked at me as if I was crazy.” He chuckles.

“He found out and sat me down. Told me it didn’t work like that. My biggest dream was to own a Ferrari, just like everyone in Monaco hopes to. He believed in me, swore that if I worked hard enough, then I could do it. Only then would I know where the mysterious pin was.”

“Lorenzo, my older brother, knew there was a key for…” He signals sheepishly at the wooden floor, a lock hidden in plain sight as he blushes. “I guess I never really learned how to be patient. I barely figured it out a few days ago, when you kicked the cabinet door open.”

You gape. “It was jammed.”

He snickers. “It reminded me of something he had said after he painted the walls. Only the toughest can kick without feeling any regret. He would have loved you, that much I know.”

Flustered, you twirl the hem of your dress. “You’re saying I’m a horse?”

“You’re definitely abnormal.” Your shoulders droop. “All I’m saying is that you helped me find the missing piece. And that means a lot.”

“But you don’t own a Ferrari yet,” you retorted, even though only you knew, you knew the truth, but he doesn’t bat an eye, only clips the pin onto your dress. 

“One day it will be.” He winks. “Until then, you can take care of this for me.”

-

“Two more weeks, huh?”

Forcing a spoonful of gelato into his mouth, you pout. He struggles to digest the berry treat. “That’s kind of sad. I think I’ll actually miss you, Charles.” 

His lips curl. “I know I’ll miss you.” Brown hair flows against the summer breeze. “But it doesn’t have to end like this. We can still see each other. Right?”

“Uh…”

He would find out eventually once the article was published and he would hold every right to hate you. To not want to see you again. Your lack of response has him pinching his face. “You don’t want to?”

Scrambling like a clumsy giraffe, you fidle with a nearby pillow. “I do! But when would we have the time?” You’re going to be too busy racing and hating my guts, you want to spit out when he beams back at you.

“I would make the time just for you.”

Your heart clenches. Could he just be honest? Open up to you. You would gladly do the same, but he needed to do this first to give you the courage to own up to your secrets. Lips part, then purse. “Charles, I-” A ring lingers in the air as he tips his head, giving to the go-ahead. Excusing yourself, you march into the sunny room.

“Yes, hello?”

“How’s vacation?” Eleanor’s rich voice enters your ears as you squirm. 

“Vacation?” you squeak.

She sighs. “I’m obviously kidding. Can’t you tell that I’m kidding?” A nervous giggle flutters as you hum back at her. She continues. “Anyways, that's not what I called you for. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. My injuries are much better. Doc says I can have the casts removed in a week-”

“Let me rephrase. I wanted to check up on your work. Progress.”

“Of course,” you say. “I actually have it done. It just needs a few more rounds of proof-reading, but I’m sure I can send it to you by…” You stare at the calendar. “Two weeks.”

Eleanor clicks her tongue in disapproval. “No, I need it by Friday. Nothing past that.” 

Your stomach lurches. “Eleanor, I can’t.” And why not? Biting down on your nails, you peek over to where the brunette sun bathes, or naps, you can’t tell. I need two weeks because by then I’ll be gone and won’t have to deal with a certain driver detesting me. You understand, right? But you don’t say any of that.

“You said it was an exclusive. I need this,” she warns, subtle threat lacing his voice. “We’re talking about one of the most sought-out drivers in all of Formula One. Do you realize what this could do for your career? If you nail this right in the eye, you might even become my right hand. And you know it’s only up from there, sweetheart. Friday.”

“Friday.”

That same night, the sound of your digits hitting the keyboard are the only thing being heard. Charles tries to sneak a peek, but when you cry out stating you were helping a friend get over a break up, he took a step back and scrolled through his phone.

Stellar job…The most…Amazing…

A frustrated growl escapes you as you fist your hands. Taking a look, Charles can’t help but grin. Often misunderstood, the 26 year old deals with lots of… “Argh!” His eyes widened. 

“That bad, huh? What did he do to your poor friend?”

“What?” you rudely retort, but quickly try to ease your breathing. “Right. Um. Yeah, men are shit.”

“Of course we are,” he replies warmly. “How about you take a break? If you’re getting too riled up, you won’t do her any good. Just refresh and come back to it. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

But the blank space has you stressed as you circle back to what Eleanor said over the phone. You had perfect this. “I have to do this. Help her, I mean. Now.” 

“You’re too kind.” It’s as if a loving glow towers over his face as he sits at the edge of the bed. “I admire that.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. But seriously, let's go for a walk.”

Despite the sun setting, he of course wears his famous Raybans and a Boston hat lounged over his curly hair. His killer mullet was rolling in as you licked your lips at the dreamy sight.

Wait. No. 

With a secretive glance, you find him whistling an unknown tune. Though he wears the darkest shade of sunglasses, you can still feel his warm gaze. Though his luscious hair is draped with an old hat, you can still distinguish his shampoo scent. His body next to yours is enough to make your inside flip as you shake your head abruptly.

This was Charles. Just a friend. A friend for the time being, at least. There was no room to form a crush now. You settled on the fact that he was just merely attractive. That you can do - admit.

“I was serious about what I said earlier today. I will visit you wherever you are.” Green eyes flicker over to you. “You’ve become one of the most important persons in my life. A good friend to have around.”

Your heart for some reason shatters as you squint your eyes at the golden sun. “Right after Amelia and Roman, you are someone I consider a friend, too. I’m glad we met.” A peaceful silence lingers between you two as your heart thuds against your ribcage. “Charles-”

“I know you read my journal.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

[predestinatos]

'tis the season, i guess — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: cold winter days bring unexpected company to your bookshop. or in which your ex needs help choosing a book for his girlfriend.

words: 3.5k

tags: angst, SO much angst, dark academia vibes for some reason?, genuinely heartbreaking. some fluff but not much!

note: this was based off of this request but i got a bit carried away and wrote a whole thing! also am now obsessed with listening to sabrina carpenter... i hope everyone likes this even though it is very painful, but lmk your thoughts pls!!

The bookshop was basically empty, all the noise you could hear being yourself trying to rearrange the books in alphabetical order, and soft music playing in the background.

you stood on your tiptoes in order to reach a book at the top of the shelf, knowing a bench was available but being too lazy to go get it. Wuthering Heights refused to reach your fingertips despite your efforts and soft curses to yourself a bit louder than usual due to the emptiness of the shop.

"Need help?" a male voice called from behind, causing you to roll your eyes. Here we go, you thought to yourself, another man who catches you alone in the shop and tried to hit on you, and you'll have to find him funny and play delighted to be in his presence despite how bothersome he is, despite the ring on his finger.

"No, I'm okay, really-" you started replying, putting on your best customer service smile, fixing your hair as you turned around to face the stranger. but the person who you faced wasn't a stranger in the slightest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he said as he reached behind you for Wuthering Heights, taking him zero effort to do so, increasing your frustration and disbelief.

those brief moments of closeness brought to you a thousand heart clenching memories, time standing still as his scent hit you softly.

"Try this one" you tried to stop giggling as you held the dark brown bottle in your hands and asked for his wrist.

"Tobacco Vanille? I don't want to smell like cigarettes!!" he joked, although he let you spray his wrist gently, so happy just for the sole fact that you were happy.

Your smiles reached your eyes as they met for brief seconds, waiting for the smell to hit his skin. Reactions weren't needed as your expressions turned from smiling to shocked, mouths widening at the scent that seemed to fill you both.

"It's AMAZING!" you half screamed excitedly as he smelled his wrist in confirmation. "Charlie, it smells so good I could eat you right now!"

He laughed at the nickname, at how pretty you looked, at how simple it all was. He kept laughing with the perfume in a perfectly wrapped package in his hand, the other holding yours.

"Uhm, hi" you said, as his big familiar hands stretched out to hand you the book, which you hugged tightly to your chest in an attempt to hide or disappear in it, you weren't sure "Thanks."

"No problem" he replied politely, almost annoyingly so, the tiptoeing already starting before more than a few words could be uttered, his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere but you.

It was uncomfortable - the silence, the stillness, how both of you stood there like ghosts, waiting for some direction, something to do, something to happen. "So uhm... what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm a wedding crasher" the stranger next to you replied, black tuxedo slightly touching your arm, a drink in his hand and shirt slightly unbuttoned.

"Really?" your eyebrows raised as you took in what he said and his appearance – the nose, especially the nose.

He laughed slightly, taking a sip of his drink and looking back at you "no, I'm friends with the bride," his finger pointed in the direction of the beautiful woman dressed in white, but all you could see was how big his hands were, adorned with rings. "And you?"

"I am an actual wedding crasher" you replied, cheeky smile adorning your lips despite the shyness you felt as your eyes locked with his. It was his time to raise his eyebrows and your turn to take a sip of beer as he repeated what you had asked seconds before. "Really?"

"No, I'm friends with the groom" you replied winking, enjoying the stranger's company and humor, his smile causing small dimples to appear in his cheeks as he looked down at his lap.

"You got me," his hand suddenly stretched towards you, palm open and inviting, "I'm Charles."

He kept shrugging and avoiding your eyes, despite the fact that he had willingly chosen to go to the place where you worked. It was making you impatient and angry, those emotions replacing the initial shock and sadness.

"I need your help choosing a book," his voice sounded weak and embarassed, shame coming through every vowel. You stood still, waiting for him to continue, wishing he'd speak faster, explain himself already or just leave and forget he even came. "For my girlfriend"

Those words twisted inside you like a sharpened knife that knew the cut would merely hurt, not kill. Despite that, you knew better, you refused to let him notice any sort of hint of how that information affected you. "Oh wow," was all you could say at first, turning around to keep placing books in shelves, distracting at least your body since your mind was restless "birthday?"

"Uh? Oh no, 6-month anniversary" he muttered, almost inaudibly. You were too aware suddenly of how your clothes felt on you, how ironic red was in the necklace you were wearing as you placed Anne Boleyn's biography in its correct place, tight between the other books. You refused to look to him now, nodding intensively so he would understand that you had heard what he said, your skin prickling as you struggled to move. Calculations ran through your mind, trying to place those 6 months in the timeline of both of your lives as he moved awkwardly behind you.

"It's funny actually, she really loves reading, I guess I do have a typ-" he began, trying to lighten the mood, but each word he said felt like another grain of salt being thrown at the open wound that was your heart.

“What does she like to read?” you interrupted him, purposefully so, knowing how clear your intention to move from the subject was.

“I read a bit of everything, but I love the classics,” you said as the cappuccinos arrived and sat prettily in the café’s table. You stared at Charles as he stared at you; his entire expression seemed to give you undivided attention, registering every word and movement of yours. He smiled at all the correct times, nodded at your statements and frowned at certain parts of your narrative almost as if he had been custom made for you.

“What’s your favorite book?” he continued, sipping his drink, some foam remaining on his top lip, a feature you smiled softly at, bravely leaning over with a napkin and cleaning it. “Thank you” he said as he noticed your blushing expression, his way of both reassuring you and brushing it off as something mundane, and you bit your lip, holding back a bigger smile than necessary.

“This is such a cliché,” you started, rolling your eyes at your answer, trying your best not to say it. “Go on” his hand suddenly stretched towards yours, resting on top of it gently, like a sheet perfectly fitted for a bed. Your body burned with the touch, what is symbolized, what it promised silently in that small café.

“It’s Catcher in the Rye,” you both burst out laughing.

“She loves Fitzgerald,” his hands touched random books, looking for something to do, fixing them, opening some of them and putting them back in place, reading the backs of them as if he was paying attention to anything they said.

“Good taste,” you tried the compliment route. You didn’t want to sound bitter, and you weren’t bitter. It was just a lot to take in so fast, his presence as painful as his words, the way both made you feel so small for such a big place, so big for such a tight room.

“That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,” you quoted the author as you contemplated the choices available for a lover of Fitzgerald. Work could fill your mind. Pretending it was just one more client made it easier. “Any other author or book? Help me out, Charli- Charles” you cut yourself off before the nickname could come out, hoping he wouldn’t notice, knowing that he did. You felt his entire body tense behind you as yours did, making it seem like a picture frozen in time in place, The Star-Crossed Lovers.

Charles seemed so silent that you unconsciously felt yourself turning back to check if he was still there, if he hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination after all. He stood in place, for a moment his eyes looked at you as if they hadn’t seen you in his entire life, examined you as if you were as unknown as letters in a freshly printed page. That soon faded as he snapped back to reality, registering the question with incredible delay. “Faulkner. She also likes Faulkner.”

“Aaaand Faulkner is done” you brushed some of the dust off of your hands as you stood up, looking at the now organized Classics section. “At least for the next week! Thank you for staying with me, by the way,” you said to the phone, as its screen indicated that you had been on a call for 2:45:17 hours.

“No problem,” Charles smiled. You knew he did although you didn’t see him, and that sheer though made you smile as well. “Can you do me a favour though?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement, a puppy-like tone that you cherished “open the door, I’m freezing.”

At first you were confused at his request, and you were close to questioning it until it hit you. You didn’t believe it. There could be no way he was- you rushed to the bookshop’s door, opening it while still holding your phone. Heart racing, you opened the door and saw Charles’ frame standing there, the lights illuminating his red cheeks and nose from the cold, one hand awkwardly holding the cellphone, the other trying to balance two warm drinks. He was wearing a beanie that made him look younger, softer, a puffer jacket that seemed to hug him perfectly- “Is there a code or something?” he jokingly asked, his breath visible due to the cold air outside, and you realized you had been staring for too long. You stood aside, turning the phone off as he placed the cups on the counter and removed his extra clothes.

“You didn’t have to,” you started. “I wanted to.” “You’re so sweet I could kiss you right now.” “Do it, then.”

 You started browsing through the spines of the books in the shelves in front of you, looking for answers to more than one question, relying on pulling you sleeves down to your hands to mask your nervousness.

“How have you been, though?” his voice made you jump a bit, pulling you back to reality as you pulled 2 books and held them against your chest with one hand, trying to keep them from falling by lifting a leg – an awkward stance, you were sure. “Great, actually” you replied, unconvincingly so.

Things were hard after what happened with Charles, and you had taken many different routes to get over it all at first – waking up hungover in strangers’ beds, not leaving the house, breaking hearts for fun, letting people use you for fun, meaningless moment after meaningless moment, where the highlight would be hearing a voice that sounded even slightly similar to his. They got slightly better, of course, a year had passed, you could function, yet it hadn’t scarred yet – it wasn’t even close. The wound was open and bleeding and hideous and his presence, his voice, his smell, his request, it all just made the blood spill harder.

“Really?” “Hmhm,” a nod. A cough from behind you, making you turn around. His face was stern, serious. Charles was considering if coming was a good idea, what even drove him to do it in the first place. There were so many bookshops, so many other gifts he could give, yet he felt like showing up, like seeing you, at least once. Now he was there and he felt peculiar. Something close to guilt crawled on his chest, but he wasn’t sure what he was feeling guilty of, which in turn intensified his guilt.

You reached for a third book, and as you did so, the ones you were holding fell once again on the old wooden floorboards. “Shit” you muttered, crouching to grab them as Charles did the same, you two being so familiarly close, the irony of the cliché overwhelming the both of you. Getting up, Charles felt the need to offer his hand for you to hold, a support you refused to take and acknowledge, pretending you didn’t see it when it reality it seemed to be screaming at you loudly and intensely.

“So here are my recommendations, I guess” you sighed, letting him assume it was due to tiredness, knowing that he wouldn’t. Placing the 3 books on the nearest table, they faced the both of you as you stood next to each other, his arm brushing against yours, eyebrows furrowed as he examined their covers and details carefully.

Mrs. Dalloway, Age of Innocence, and One Hundred Years of Solitude sat perfectly, yet stared at the both of you defiantly, knowing their words could cut through both of your souls if they pleased.

“Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love” Charles read aloud, laying in your bed next to you, your head resting gently on his chest as you felt him laugh softly, lying naked in . “You’re right, I think I like this author.”

You laughed alongside him, both unaware of the fact that you were laughing for different reasons.

Charles’ eyes glanced quickly towards you, the same memory haunting your minds as if you were locked in a cinema of nostalgia. Shyly, his hand reached towards the hardback edition of Age of Innocence, its soft colors drawing him attention when the other options were either too painful to grab or not as tempting for his eyes.

You leaned against the polished table, looking at the way he touched the pages tenderly, fingers brushing them with a softness that reminded you of times that had gone by yet seemed to close and so recent.

His features seemed so focused, eyes moving slowly across each sentence, eyelashes prettily adorning them, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed dryly. He almost seemed unreal, a mirage of a stranger who was once so familiar to you, breaking the spell when he chuckled softly. “What?” you asked, whispering, too afraid that a sudden movement might make him disappear entirely. The normalcy of the moment was as terrifying as it was comforting, a moment in which it seemed like you two were the same again. “Nothing it’s just, one of the sentences I stumbled upon…”

“Which one?” you rested your chin in your hand while looking up at him, forgetting the previous moments, the previous year, every previous instance in its entirety as he looked back down at you and bit his lip nervously.

“I want somehow to get away with you into a world where words like that -categories like that- won't exist. Where we shall be simply two human beings who love each other, who are the whole of life to each other; and nothing else on earth will matter.” the room went cold and silent as the night.

“I can’t give you a relationship” he stood in his own kitchen like a foreigner, a man you almost did not recognize. “Why not?” “Because I don’t do relationships and I don’t like labels and I don’t want to hurt you by convincing you that I can.”

Your ears rung as you fought back tears. You wouldn’t cry. You were too proud for that, to show him this mattered way more to you than to him. “If you don’t want to hurt me then try, Charles.”

He shrugged, arms opened in defeat and eyes looking at the window, the snow falling down outside, locking you both in this confrontation. “I can’t.” Frustration invaded your bones and skin as you asked why once again, though your voice was tired and broken.

“It’s not because of you, I just- Can’t I just love you?” “That’s what I’m asking you to do by staying,” you reply cut like ice, and as he moved closer to you and held your face in his hands, you knew you had lost. “I can’t. Because I can’t do relationships.”

“But you will” you pushed him away as you left, knowing you were leaving your toothbrush, spare underwear, and heart there.

He interrupted the stillness before you did, clearing his throat and his mind, failing to relieve you of the pain of the past. “I’ll take this one” he said, now too polite, too frigid to go back.

You held the book and moved towards the counter, aware of his footsteps behind you, following you. You knew he was doing it because he had to pay, because he was a customer, because that’s what you’re supposed to do – yet part of you wanted it to be for a different reason, wanted his hand to suddenly reach for your wrist and tell you it was all a lie, a big prank, he was sorry and he took it all back.

You wanted him to say something daring enough for you to explode at him, to scream everything you’ve been holding inside for a year, to go back to that kitchen and its dimmed lights. To dare yourself to ask how dare he come into your workplace and throw everything at you, all politeness and fragrance and small talk, like it was nothing when you felt everything.

Instead, you wrapped the present nicely, placing a bright ribbon at the top while he fidgeted with his wallet from the other side of the counter. It was almost done, this exchange, and you didn’t know how to feel anymore. You were tired. So tired.

“Why did you come here?” you asked, facing him fully, staring at his green eyes that tried their best to hold your gaze. “Seriously, Charles, why did you come here?”

At first, he stayed silent. You refused to break the silence this time, even if he left without an answer you knew you had asked it, you did not save it for late nights lying awake. “I know you think I didn’t love you, but I do” he said.

It didn’t seem like a reply to your question, it seemed like a statement he was waiting to get out since the moment he walked in, the phrasing odd with its verbs being intentionally used in different tenses that didn’t seem to matter, at least not anymore. All you could do was laugh in disbelief, anger, or hurt, or a mix of both spreading throughout your body.

“You were- are- very important to me. You helped me realize a lot of things and if I could, I would go back in time in a heartbeat. But I can’t” he grabbed the present, hinting at the fact that he was going to leave, yet it didn’t seem fair to you. This wasn’t an apology, and was nowhere close to it, your hands trembling were a proof of such.

“You never can” you raised your chin, pride fighting against hurt as tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, jaw tense and firm, “not when it comes to me.” And there it was. What you both knew was true, said aloud like a forbidden fruit that was now bit into.

“It’s more complicated than that. And it’s alright for you to hate me, but I genuinely do love you. I care about you and think about you more than I should-“

“Do you love her?” it was a stupid question, and you knew that. You knew whatever answer he gave you would be a slap in the face, unsatisfying and painful either way. You hated yourself for the slight jealousy you felt towards a woman you barely knew, who wasn’t at fault at all, whose only problem was being too lovable.

“I do. I wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for you” “Oh wow. Thanks for that one” you crossed your arms across your chest, making yourself smaller, trying to hide while looking at the clock – 15 minutes left until the shop closes. 15 minutes left of the last time you’ll ever see him.

“Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?” he wanted to reach for you and hold you, a moment of involuntary movement almost drove him to do something he couldn’t possibly do, not anymore, at least. You looked at his sudden jerk of movement, how he stopped as if his muscles burned and prevented him from acting upon his instincts. It was the best answer he could’ve given you.

“I’m selfish. I want to look at a bookshelf and know a piece of you is there. I know I’ll never fucking see you again, and I’ll leave you alone, but God I need something to remind myself that you’re real” he said, eyes closing in shame or frustration, you couldn’t say.

“You took a part of me with you that night. And I’ll never get it back. And you walked in today and took a bit more. More than that book. And every time I think of you, you take another piece. So when you look at that book, think of your girlfriend. I am real. But what we had wasn’t. Not anymore.”

You started closing the register, ignoring his presence, hoping he’d go away. The only reason you noticed him leaving was the small bell that rang as he opened and closed the door, and you finally succumbed and let the tears run free.

[fairiesdowntheroad]

tears were shed

[f1version]

WHAT TF IS A ROOKIE 🦅🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

[verstarppen-deactivated20250221]

hear me out….. okay reader is famous and meeting fans,, a fan is wearing a top with like charles or max or whoever’s face on it and reader spots it and is like “…who is that😮‍💨” and the fans tell her and shes like “please show me their instagram” and then she follows whoever the guy you choose on ig,,, but one of the fans was recording the whole interaction qnd the video goes viral as well as a screenshot of readers ig following their account <3333 you can ignore i just thought this would be a good giggle type fic and your fics are my fav for giggling <33333

SUMMARY: your comic book signing takes a turn when a fan walks in wearing a t-shirt with a poorly photoshopped "charles lechair" or wheover that is PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem! comic book artist! reader [ no faceclaim ] A/N: this is for my charlie girlies i see your comments ladies and they make me smile im lurking and im stalking when you least expect it; all art used in this is by my lord and saviour dan mora if i could eat his artsyle i would

liked by charles_leclerc and 430,010 others

ynlantern thank you everyone who stopped by for a print or a sticker @ comic_con ! and if you haven't, i'm here for the next 2 days

view all 100,333 comments

orangleclerc HE'S IN THE LIKES Y'ALL

kirbyvettel can someone pls explain what's going on orangleclerc I'll DM you the video baconforza HEY I WANT TO KNOW TOO lionkingseb ffs please someone explain

egggrosjean I've never cared about anything superhero related but this whole situation made me look into your work, and I have to say it's amazing!!! Keep up the good work

roboclaren HE FOLLOWED HER BACK LMAO

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, ynlantern and 5,331,254 others

pierregasly He's great with kids and dogs

view all 1,699,314 comments

monte_carlos_55 STOP EMBARASSING HIM

verstoppen "My crush is coming act cool" My friends:

charles_leclerc What did I say

pierregasly I'm doing free promotion charles_leclerc You're talking a lot of shit for someone within bitch slap distance pierregasly Delete this, you're ruining my marketing strategy

scuderiaferrari It's true! He's actually a driver, strategist and team principal!

ynlantern isn't half of that your job? scuderiaferrari @ charles_leclerc Nevermind, we don't like her. charles_leclerc 😐

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ynlantern i heard he solved world hunger or something

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vertiddieenjoyer WAR IS OVER

ceruleanwilliams historians in 2294 trying to figure out what charles leclerc actually did and what the internet said he did to get him a date: 😰

pierregasly No need to thank me

honeyvettel the real main character

arthur_leclerc You did it. You crazy son of a bitch you did it.

charles_leclerc No swearing under her posts, please arthur_leclerc Yes, mom.

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charles_leclerc Round 2 :)

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scuderiaferrari That was fast

carlossainz55 Unlike our pitstops scuderiaferrari You're getting distracted charles_leclerc Wish I could get distracted out of SF-23

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

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