Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!
Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner
Warnings: critiquing (and rude) parents, alcohol, talk of horses from an author who knows nothing about them (and if you haven’t realised it yet, riding horses is supposed to be an analogy for racing)
Update: There should be around 17-ish chapters, but I’m also working on a fic for the brilliant and ingenious @bright-shiningstar (also a prince!charles x reader that may already be over 7k.... sorry not sorry) so they may come a little later than I would like
ao3 link next chapter>>
Two weeks went by quickly and you knew that the servants were surprised by you. When you ordered a paint job for a scandalous wallpapered room, they hadn’t thought that you would don an apron and help them. You weren’t the best at manual labour, but you tried, and soon your arms were covered in sticky paint, laughing as you tried to get it off. You spontaneously decided to hire a gardener and met a lovely man called Oscar. He was thrilled to construct the gardens of the Princess of Enza, and quickly got to work. Another man, Nico Hulkenberg, came galloping up one day dressed in the regalia of a knight, and told you that Prince Charles had sent him to make sure you stayed out of danger. You, albeit a little peeved that Prince Charles hadn’t conferred with you, allowed Nico to join Lando in a hut by the stables.
You spent many days with Lando and the horses, trying to learn as much as possible about the animals and the sport that sometimes accompanied them. Lando became a swift friend and you enjoyed his company. Not only was he extremely knowledgeable, but also funny and charming. He introduced you to two horses he had acquired from a breeder with the money you gave him. They were crudely called number sixteen and number fifty-five. He had yet to name them.
On your first day, you hesitantly climbed on number sixteen. You tried desperately to remember everything you learned from your few minutes on a horse, and luckily, it came back quickly. Lando was highly encouraging and very patient. Once you felt comfortable, he jumped on number fifty-five and joined you in the fields.
“How are you doing?” he asked, circling around to meet you.
“This is fantastic!” You smiled broadly. “But it’s a little hard to ride in a dress. I’m going to need to fashion some new garments. I may have to write to Este.”
“Whatever the princess wants,” Lando said. “Do you know what you’re going to name them?”
You hummed. “Not yet, but I’m sure the right names will come to me.”
“Milady!” You heard a shout from the house and looked back at it. Elena was waving furiously at you, trying to get your attention. “Your family is arriving!”
You swore under your breath and nudged sixteen into a swift trot. “Elena!” You tried to instruct her from your horse. “Pull out a red dress for me to wear and a white shawl. Have the household line up in front of the house. Nico should be at the doors. Make sure Oscar looks presentable and have Yuki find all of the alcohol. We’ll need it.” Elena nodded sharply and ran back into the house. “Lando,” you directed. “I want you to tend to the horses at the front of the stable. My family came a day early- we’re unprepared, but it can’t seem like that.”
You hopped off number sixteen and thrust the reins into Lando’s hands. “May I say, Princess,” Lando called out as you ran to the Villa. “You're handling this very well. You make a remarkable leader.”
“Thank you, Lando.” He could tell that you were sincere. It was exactly what you needed to hear.
Sara rushed you upstairs the moment you stepped in the door. “May I ask, Princess,” she wondered as she undid the laces to your plain, around-the-house gown. “Why red? I thought you wanted to hold onto Williams for as long as you could.”
“No, no, no,” you bundled your hair into an updo. “I don’t care about holding onto Williams- they did nothing for me. I’m simply trying to aggravate whomever I hate most of all. If I see my parents, I change to red for Enza. If I see Prince Charles, I change to blue for Williams.”
“And if you see both?” Sara couldn’t help but smile at your antics. It reminded her of when you were younger, always finding a new mess to get into with your siblings. You stepped into the red dress and Sara pulled it up and started clipping and tying it into perfection.
“Ah, but that won’t ever happen.” You wagged a finger at her. “They don’t care enough to visit me at the same time.”
“Ma’am, they’re here.” Elena popped her head in the doorway and Sara yanked on the corset of your dress once more before twisting the strings into a bow.
You nodded, straightened your back, and strode down the stairs and out the door. The servants were already lined up elegantly and you couldn’t find one thing that your mother would pick apart. Two carriages stood outside, one containing your family, and the other, their belongings. You inwardly cringed at the amount of possessions they brought with them.
“Y/n, darling!” Your mother swept down from the carriage and embraced you tightly. “How have you been? Have you been surviving? It’s a momentous task to run a household and I was so worried you couldn’t live up to it.”
Only three seconds in, and you already wanted to strangle her. If it were only your siblings, then their stay would’ve been joyful. Unfortunately, your parents had spontaneously invited themselves, filling you with annoyance and dread.
“The wedding was phenomenal,” your father appeared at your mother’s side. “And how is Prince Charles? I assume he wanted to stay back at the palace, as this quaint house is no place for royalty, but I hope the wedding night went well?”
“Why don’t you get settled in, hm?” You blatantly ignored their questions, not offering so much as a ‘hello’. Your mother tittered disapprovingly at your words, but sashayed in the house, looking for inconsequential details to criticise. Your father clapped a hand on your bare shoulder, making you jump. True to his word, Este had altered some of your dresses for warmer weather, but you were now regretting it. You pulled your shawl tighter around you.
“Y/n, I am so sorry.” Your sister’s voice made you turn around. Brenda looked terribly guilty as Robert helped her down. “I couldn’t find an excuse to stop them from coming.”
“We tried,” Ralph rolled his eyes. “We tried so hard. But they persisted. They were adamant about visiting you.”
“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I’m glad you three came along. It’ll be easier to diffuse the tension. How’s Cambria doing?” You asked Robert about his heavily pregnant wife. The doctor had confined her to bed, the reason why she wasn’t with him on this trip.
“She’s splendid.” Robert grinned happily. “We’re both very excited. I’m cutting my visit short, however, to get back to her. I’ll only stay three days.”
“Oh, that’s fine! Give her my love when you return,” you said. You were delighted to have a niece or nephew. It would give you an excuse to visit Williams more often.
“I feel so bad for Cambria and Robert.” Brenda shook her head and looped her arm through yours. “Mother’s been hounding them ever since she found out Cambria was with child. Ralph’s been lucky to escape her eye.”
“The only good thing about marriage,” you muttered. “Getting away from mother.”
Brenda made a noise of agreement. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Dinner was stressed. Your father and Robert sat at the head. Ralph had drawn the short straw and had to sit next to your mother. Your glass of wine had been refilled three times. Awkward conversation had been sprinkled throughout, ranging from politics to talk of your recent marriage, though you wondered if they weren’t the same thing. Your father had delightedly bragged about the new finances and influx of immigrants that had been brought to Williams because of the new, prosperous relationship with Enza. You had ordered another round of drinks after that.
Mercifully, Elena tapped on your shoulder, whispering, “Milady, may I talk to you? Something has come up.”
You eagerly pushed away from the table and followed her to the foyer. “Please tell me this will take longer than fifteen minutes. I need a break from them. Don’t get me wrong, Elena, I love my family, especially my brothers and sisters, but sometimes my parents can be a bit much. I bought the Foundling Villa to escape everything, but people just keep showing up.”
Elena grimaced and said, “On that note, Princess, uh, another visitor has arrived.”
You pressed your fingers to your temples to try and stop the oncoming headache. “I will pay you double for the next year if you get them to go away. I don’t care who they are; I cannot stand someone else here.”
“Yes, well, ma’am,” Elena stuttered through her words. “I’m not sure I can do that to your husband, who, if you’ve forgotten, is the prince of Enza.”
Cursing, you threw open the door to see Prince Charles stepped down from a royal carriage bedecked in Enzan colours. He straightened his mantle, ran a hand through his hair, and then locked eyes with you. Prince Charles smiled sheepishly and shrugged, as if to say, Sorry, but I wanted to come see you.
“Elena.” You turned back to the frightened maid. “Please tell Sara to pick out a purple dress. I’m trying to displease many people tonight.”
Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!
Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster
Warnings: death, funeral
ao3 link next chapter>>
King Hervé’s funeral was elegant. That much you could say. Whether it was what he would’ve wanted, you didn’t know. Even though you didn’t know King Hervé well, from the few encounters you had, he had seemed like a compassionate and gentle man.
Before your wedding, you had read up on the history of Enza, and found that King Hervé had been the one to push Enza into modern times. The economy had grown, the people had prospered, and his family was happy. Suffice to say, the kingdom of Enza had taken a blow with his death.
Even if you didn’t know the person who died, it was still depressing to be around the people who did. The air of death was prominent and it pulled you down with it. You and Charles had returned to Enza’s palace and Charles quickly found his place within the arms of his mother. You were left to float around the palace, unsure of what to do. You were only Enzan by marriage and Charles only a royal spare, so you didn’t need to be involved in the lengthy meetings that were happening around the clock. Maybe if Charles was first in line you would be pulled in, but alas, you were left alone.
King Hervé’s passing had brought other monarchs to Enza to express their sorrow, pay tribute at the funeral, and pledge their allegiance to the new King, Lorenzo. Because of the influx of wealthy people, the rooms of Enza were quickly filled up. You and Charles agreed to share a room so more people could come to mourn his father.
Queen Pascale didn’t tell you that there were more than enough rooms for you and your husband to sleep separately.
You didn’t remember the funeral; it was more like a grey cloud in your mind. What you remembered was Charles standing next to you, head bowed and eyes full of tears. You remembered Queen Pascale’s black dress and veil and the flowers surrounding the casket. But the priest's words were lost on you. You mumbled the prayers in a resounding mass with everyone else, but you didn’t comprehend the words. Later, you felt guilty, as if you personally offended King Hervé by not embracing the prayers. But you knew that his family had likely done the same. You would look over to see Charles as a still statue, eyes fixated on the casket as if he could raise his father from the dead just by wishing hard enough.
Once the funeral ended, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Enza needed a king, and fast. Coronation plans were thrust before Lorenzo and you felt bad for the poor boy. The only reminder of King Hervé’s death was Queen Pascale, wandering the halls in her mourning clothes.
One night, after chatting with Este, you went back to yours and Charles’ shared room. You were surprised to find it pitch black. The curtains, which usually allowed in an inkling of light, were tied tightly shut. The fireplace embers had long since died and you couldn’t help but wonder if they died the same time King Hervé did.
You shuffled towards the windows, intent on opening the curtains. Your eyes hadn’t adjusted yet and you were worried about knocking something over. Just as you reached the window, movement caught your eye.
Charles was wrapped around himself in bed, a mountain of blankets crushing him. It dawned on you that this was his doing; he was the one to shut the curtains and kill the fire. His father’s death was finally catching up to him.
You weren’t sure if you should intervene, but you couldn’t leave him there with his thoughts. Loneliness would only make it worse. "Charles? Can you talk to me? You shouldn't be alone."
The room was dark with the overhang of death in the air. "He can't be gone," you heard Charles mutter. "How can the world keep turning without him?"
"Because there's still more to live for." You sat on the bed and the lump of blankets shifted. Finally, your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you could see Charles gazing up at you, tears blurring his eyes.
"Y/n, I can't." Charles tried to plead with you. The sharp, unbelieving pain had subsided into a deep ache in his gut. It was like sadness consumed him, forcing him to wallow in it forever. The reality that someone could leave you forever had not set in yet. How did people cope? How did people grieve? How could someone go on living while someone else is dead?
"Charles, may I give you a word of advice?"
"Please do. Anything." Charles curled into himself even more, if that was possible.
"A famous poet once said, ‘Not a whit, we defy augury. There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is 't to leave betimes? Let be.’” You shifted so you were against the headboard, legs outstretched. Charles lay next to you. He twisted to face you.
“I’m not ready to let be,” he whispered.
“That’s okay.” The majority of you screamed not to, but the tiny side prevailed. You let a hand drift down to his hair and started combing through it, drawing circles on his temples and cheeks.
Charles closed his eyes. “I like it when you call me Charles,” he said.
You exhaled a laugh. “You told me.”
“I just thought I should remind you.”
“Thank you for doing so.”
Charles let himself relax into the bed and your touch. The two of you stayed there for a long time. You felt content, yet terrified. You thought, this shouldn’t feel like home.
**
As a direct opposite to the King’s funeral, Lorenzo’s coronation was a swirl of colours, laughter, and dancing. True to tradition, all the Leclerc brothers wore a dash of black for their deceased father and Queen Pascale still donned her black gown and robe, but you would’ve thought that the party was one of the liveliest had it not been for those factors.
Your own dress fell elegantly to the floor and Este had brushed aside customs to place you in a deep green gown. Este had said, “so many people in Enzan colours. Ah, you have to stand out!” He had then placed a silver tiara on your head, woven into your hair to insure it didn’t fall.
The feast afterwards, even though it was held in a grand hall, felt suffocating. Dignitaries and royals from all the kingdoms in Formuline joined you that evening. Your own parents stayed far away from you, and for that you were thankful. Charles made sure to always have an eye on you in case anything was to arise.
As the evening was winding down, you found yourself in the company of a knight, Daniel. He made you laugh like no other and even introduced you to other lords and advisors you recognised as Charles’ confidants.
“Princess Leclerc?” An accented voice came from behind you and your insides fluttered at your new surname. You twirled around, expecting to find another friend of Charles’. Instead, your smile faltered when Prince Verstappen came into your view.
“Prince Verstappen.” You lowered your head in an informal bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I was wondering if the princess would grace me with a dance?” He held a hand out and the aristocrats around you fell silent. Lord Carlos slipped away to find Charles.
“It would be rude to say no.” You placed your hand in his.
The dance was awkward at first. You were acutely aware of the eyes on you, including the protective ones of Charles who had quickly located you after Lord Carlos whispered the situation to him. Charles couldn’t simply break up the dance- it would be considered militant and pugnacious. He would have to be content to wait and swoop in the moment the dance ended.
“Princess Y/n, I’m sure you’ve guessed that I have an ulterior motive for dancing with you,” Prince Verstappen said. His eyes carefully scanned the room, never once looking down at you.
“Yes, and I would like to know what it is.” Your reply was curt.
“Williams was a close ally to Redull until recent circumstances. My father was always fond of yours, and in turn, I was of you and your siblings. Don’t take this harshly, Princess, but I would… suggest that you take a trip to Aston or Alpine- somewhere far away from Redull and Enza. I encourage you to tell all whom you love to do the same.”
“Prince Verstappen, I’m sorry to say, but I don’t understand.” You shook your head. You wanted to step back and off of the dance floor, but you felt like you had an obligation to hear him out. His words were confusing and worrisome.
“I’m not even supposed to be here,” Prince Verstappen continued. “My father didn’t want anyone from Redull to attend the coronation, much less the pledging.” He was referring to when the other kingdoms pledged allegiance to the new King Lorenzo.
“Oh?”
“But a total surprise isn’t fair to you, nor Enza’s people. You’ll do the best you can to stay out of the cross-fire, yes?” Prince Verstappen glanced down at you. His eyes were stern. At some point in his life, they probably held happiness and hope, but those times had long passed.
Before you could reply, the music swelled to an end and Charles strode towards you. Your husband placed a hand on your lower back and glowered at Prince Verstappen. “Are you alright, Y/n?” he murmured in your ear. You nodded and turned into him. Prince Verstappen bowed and excused himself. You peered after him.
There was something he wasn’t telling you, and it didn’t sound good.
Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!
Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of misogyny
ao3 link next chapter>>
“What are our three takeaways?” True to his word, Lorenzo had sat his brothers down in a small library and given them a lesson on how to correctly please a girl. Charles would never admit it, but he learned a lot. Being a prince under the scrutiny of the court, he didn’t have a lot of time to fool around with girls. Lorenzo was the only Leclerc brother who had gone all the way; and that was only because he tied the knot.
Arthur groaned, running a hand over his face. The poor boy had been scarred for life. “Aim for the neck like a wild animal you want to kill, wiggling is great, and you’re horse racing.”
“Charles?” Lorenzo waited for him to translate Arthur’s words into something not as sarcastic.
“The neck is a sensitive spot,” Charles rattled off. “Don’t discount your fingers… down there. And change paces and speed.”
“Exactly.” Lorenzo nodded. “Trust me, your wives will thank me.”
“I’m not married yet!” Charles exclaimed, standing and stalking out of the room. He rubbed his temples, wanting to erase the memory of the last hour. Lorenzo had pulled out old medical books with diagrams Charles wanted to forget. His mind unwillingly went to you. Would sex be all that Lorenzo said it was?
As if he had wished you into existence, you rounded the corner in front of him, following a maid. Your head was bowed and you shuffled along, as if you were a child awaiting punishment. That is not how a future princess of Enza should look, Charles thought.
He had spent the past days under the careful eye of his mother, the Queen inputting her opinions whenever she could. Admittedly, Pascale had made him see things from your perspective. Charles thought about what it would be like moving to Williams where he would be leaving his family and didn’t know anyone- not even his future bride. He knew of the misogyny that was still held over the women of this continent and couldn’t imagine what you must be feeling. Having to play the silent, passive type, without knowing what Charles was like. What if he quelled your ideas with a flick of his hand? Or if he was abusive? Or wouldn’t take no for an answer?
Charles had shuddered at those thoughts. The simple prospect that you might mistake him for a vulgar and insensitive man baffled him.
“Excuse me,” Charles stepped in front of the maid that was escorting you. “May I ask where you’re taking Princess Y/n?”
“Your Highness!” The maid dropped into a low curtsy. “Princess Y/n is scheduled for a dress fitting. The seamstresses have made her wedding gown and need to make sure it fits.”
“That sounds lovely.” Charles found you staring at him sceptically. You looked away when he caught your eye. “Would you mind if I accompanied you?”
The maid turned back to you. It wasn’t her place to agree or refuse. You were the princess, after all.
You nodded. “I wouldn’t mind.” Prince Charles held out his arm and you placed yours over his. “How are you?” you asked.
“Not bad. I was just lectured by my brother, though, so I could be better.”
“Oh? What about?”
“Anatomy.”
You chuckled. “Yes, I received the same lecture from my older sister. It’s a shame older siblings tend to be so direct.”
“Indeed it is.” Prince Charles shifted topics, “my mother said she had a lovely brunch with you yesterday.”
“As did I.” You smiled at the memory. “She’s a wonderful woman, Prince Charles. Very considerate and sweet.” Queen Pascale has asked you many questions about yourself and never once brought up the impending marriage. She made you feel human and not just another thing to be auctioned off for the sake of your kingdom.
“Have you met my brothers?” Prince Charles asked.
“Have you met mine?” Your reply was harsh and quick. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. No, I haven’t had the chance to officially meet your brothers yet.”
“I’m sorry as well,” Charles sympathised for you. You were expected to conform to his kingdom whereas he had never set foot in yours. “But your siblings, they’re coming to the wedding?”
“My eldest brother, sister, and my youngest brother.”
“What of your other two sisters?” You were surprised he remembered you had two more siblings.
“Um,” you stumbled for the correct wording. “Their husbands are too busy.”
“Can’t they come alone?” Charles realised his mistake. Your sisters couldn’t travel without their husband’s permission. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. He promised himself that he would always allow you to do what you wanted. He wanted you to feel so safe and welcomed and loved that you didn’t even ask him for permission.
“It’s alright.”
“Your Highness, my Lady,” the maid addressed you, pushing open a door. Prince Charles guided you through it and into an expansive room. Many seamstresses were running about, putting the finishing touches on gowns and robes and tunics for the wedding. Bundles of fabric were thrown about the place and practically every seamstress had pins sticking out of their hair to fix the clothes of the royal family. Tailor dummies were positioned around the room, each in front of a large mirror. You saw King Hervé, Queen Pascale, Prince Lorenzo, and Prince Arthur’s outfits. You didn’t see yours or Prince Charles’s. Once you and Prince Charles stepped in the room the hectic energy ceased in time for everyone to curtsy before returning to their task.
“Princess Y/n!” A man called out to you. “My name is Esteban! Call me Este! I’m the head tailor for Enza. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Charles hid a smile at Este’s enthusiasm.
“Hello Este!” You reached out and grabbed his hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Are these all your designs?”
“Yes, of course!” Este gestured around. “Do you like them?”
“They’re beautiful!”
“Would you like to see yours?” Este couldn’t stop beaming. He was so excited to show you the gown he designed.
“Yes, please!” Something about Este radiated intoxicating energy and you loved it. You felt excited for the first time in a long while.
“Come on, stand here,” Este pushed you towards a small pedestal in front of a mirror. “Monica! Help the princess.”
A seamstress rushed over to you and started unbuttoning your dress. “Uh, pardon me,” you instinctively jerked away. “What are you doing?” Your gaze flickered to Prince Charles. His eyes were anywhere but you.
“I’m sorry, my Lady, but we need to make sure the dress fits.” She kept unbuttoning. “You may still keep your slip-on.”
Soon you were reduced to nothing. Standing, literally, on a pedestal in front of everyone, you were only wearing a flimsy little linen chemise. Your arms were crossed in front of you and you were staring at your toes.
“Are you sure Prince Charles should be here for this?” You asked, “Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the wedding gown?”
“Nonsense!” Este waves you away. “It’ll give us a chance to make sure his suit fits as well. Go on up!” Este pushed Prince Charles onto the adjourning pedestal. “Take it off,” he demanded.
Prince Charles smiled sheepishly at you and started unbuttoning his tunic. You looked away when he started on his pants. Soon, both you and your future husband were dressed only in your undergarments and you still had three weeks until the wedding.
“Princess Y/n,” Este dragged over a large swath of pink material. “I know we said a red dress, but I couldn’t let you have a wedding without a somewhat white dress. I would feel terrible. So, if you mix red and white, what do you get?” He didn’t wait for you to answer. “A lovely rose colour!” Este bunched the dress on the floor so you could step in. Once you did, a team of seamstresses swarmed you, hooking, buttoning, and tying everything into its correct place. “And don’t you worry, Prince Charles,” Este winked at the prince. “It’s much easier to get off than it is to put on.” Charles nodded, chuckling awkwardly.
“Wow…” Once the seamstresses stepped back proudly, you took yourself in. The dress was one of the softest, yet heaviest things you had ever worn. To account for Enza’s weather and the fact that you and Prince Charles would be paraded around town after the wedding, your sleeves were thin and airy. Paired with a sweetheart-neckline and a tight corset which exploded into a thick skirt, it was beautiful. Lace and small jewels cascaded down the gown.
Charles let out a breath. He saw you admiring yourself in the mirror and smiled. You felt beautiful. He wanted you to feel beautiful more often. He liked your expression when you did.
“It’s wonderful,” you told Este, grinning. “I didn’t think I would like it this much. But would it be possible to lose a layer of fabric? Enza is much warmer than Williams and I wouldn’t want to sweat.” The honesty surprised Charles. Once you arrived in Enza, Charles had quickly realised that you would conform your emotions to whatever others wanted. If you didn’t like the food at the dinner table, you would eat it anyway in fear of offending the cooks. It surprised Charles that you were openly asking for adjustments.
“Of course, Princess!” Este rushed to take notes. “And let’s take it in here, here, and see that stitch right there? I don’t love it.” He started directing the seamstresses who pulled out pins and did what Este commanded. “And Chelsea! Where’s Prince Charles’s outfit?”
Chelsea stopped sewing and swept up the cloth. She helped Charles climb into the royal mantle. The jacket was blue with golden threads stitched over it. Pressed white tunic and pants added to the wedding outfit and you could almost picture a crown on Prince Charles’ head, shining brightly. Chelsea clipped on a white and black cloak. He looked regal. Granted, he was a prince. He was always regal.
“You look good,” you commented.
“As do you,” Charles wasn’t looking at the gown; he was looking at you.
You broke eye contact and asked Este, “is there anything else we can do for you?”
“No, this all looks beautiful!” Este said. “Let’s get you two undressed so we can make the final adjustments.”
You agreed, saying, “I may have to visit here more often. I adore these dresses you have,” you referenced other gowns that lined the walls. “And I would like to alter some of my existing outfits. Maybe get rid of some of the sleeves and layers?”
“Anytime, Princess! We would love to have you down here!” Este clapped excitedly. “Welcome to the Enza family!”
You took a deep breath. The Enza family. You needed to buy the Foundling Villa, and soon.
guysss in this season i watched a couple of the firsts races and and i watched this one (the Qatar one) and it's awesome just max max and max and i didnt watched the other ones cause i realized quickly that it wasnt going to be like last year and also i enjoyed a lot Silverstone when Lewis won and thats it.
i also gave up with this season before it even started:
- february 2th
- Alpine launch
i was devestated on the 2th and also exicet to see what would happen but its next year i had to wait a whole season to see Ferrari! Lewis.
i was so done with the season when alpine themself confirmed that Esteban would be fucked like i remember his face seeing that car like i was yesterday
but the two good things that happend to him was the end of the french civil war podium and his way to Haas
