llamaqueenprompt

[llamaqueenprompt]

Red

Characters: Conrad Fisher, Reader

Requested by @foreverandevermoresworld

Word Count: 0.9k

Inspiration: Red by Taylor Swift

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Loving Conrad Fisher was reckless, thrilling, impossible to forget, like driving a brand new Maserati down a dead-end street.

It started in July. The first summer in Cousins Beach since she was five. His hoodie hung loose on his frame, his curls were messy… she could no longer remember if it was from the wind or from her fingers running through his hair. He sat on the dunes with a beer in hand and the weight of the world in his eyes. She knew better than to fall for boys like him, boys who wore sadness in their sleeves, who smiled like they weren’t really there. But she did.

“I can hear the wheels turning," she said, sitting beside him, the sun disappearing behind the waves.

He glanced at her, a small smile forming on his lips. “Is it that obvious?”

She smiled. “It’s always obvious.”

There was a beat of silence, then he said, “I think better when you’re around.”

That was all it took.

From that night on, it was late walks with tangled fingers. Shared books, soft glances, and conversations so quiet they felt sacred. He kissed her like he was afraid she would disappear. Held her like he needed her to breathe.

Touching him was like realizing everything she’d ever wanted was within reach. Being loved by him was a fire she didn’t want to put down. Uncontrollable. Addictive.

But fire burns. And destroys as it leaves.

At first, it was small things. Missed calls. Texts left on read. Long silences when asked what he was thinking. She learned to fill the blanks. She told herself that he was just grieving. Sad. Distant, but not gone.

Then the cracks got bigger. 

They fought in whispers. Arguments that started soft and ended in slammed doors.

“Just talk to me,” she pleaded all the time, voice shaking.

“I’m trying,” he snapped, running his hands through his hair. Only calming himself when he truly looked at her and took a deep breath. “It’s not that simple for me.”

“It was, Conrad. You used to let me in.”

“I just... I don’t know how anymore,” he said, and for the first time, she saw the fear in his eyes.

Still, she stayed. She loved him too much to leave. She loved him in all the ways he couldn’t love himself. But love needs to go both ways.

The night everything broke, it wasn’t dramatic. She was curled on the couch in silence, waiting for him to talk to her. She asked him what came next and he just stood there staring at her like he didn’t recognize them anymore. Like he didn't know what the right answer was.

“Maybe this isn’t working,” trying to keep his emotions in, but the tears in his eyes betrayed him.

Her break caught and a tear slipped. “What?”

He shook his head, like he hated himself for having to say it. “I don’t want to hurt you. And if we continue..."

She interrupted him, “You already have.”

He didn’t argue. Just walked out the door and took every part of her with him.

Losing him was blue. A kind of sadness so deep it made everything else seem irrelevant. Missing him was dark grey. And forgetting? That was what pained her the most.

It didn’t matter how many months passed. He lingered. In coffee shops. In sunsets on the beach. In the silence.

She tried to move on. Smiled when people asked about him. Told her friends she was okay. And then cried herself to sleep. 

He still haunted everything. Every single thing he touched still reminded her of him. And she hated how much she still loved him.

Five months later he came back.

The rain was heavy. She was curled up in her couch wearing his hoodie. The knock on the door was strange. She wasn't expecting anyone. Her parents were out. And truly, no one knocked anymore.

She opened it, and there he was.

Soaked from the rain, hair messy, sticking to his forehead, hoodie clinging to his body. 

No one said a thing, they just stared at each other while memories of what they used to be resurfaced. 

He broke first.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

She gripped the doorframe, trying to steady herself.  “You shouldn't be here.”

“I know.” His voice was hoarse. “I know. But I had to see you.”

She shook her head, she wasn’t ready. “You walked away.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. “And I regret it every single day..”

She hated how much her heart wanted to believe him.

“You don’t get to show up like nothing happened after everything.”

He stepped forward. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to look in her eyes. “I never stopped thinking about you. I tried to. I tried so hard to let you go, but I can’t. I still see you everywhere. I still hear your laugh in my head. I still pick up your weird coffee combo everytime I pick up mine. And I know it’s selfish of me to say this, but…” he took one careful step towards her, “I still love you.”

She felt like her head was gonna explode.

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I wouldn’t give myself a second chance. But I’m asking anyway. If there’s even the smallest part of you that still loves me, I’m here.”

She stared at him. At the boy who broke her. The boy she still loved in all the ways that mattered.

She moved aside.

“Come inside.”

And when he stepped over the threshold, dripping, he hugged and he didn’t let go.

Because loving him was red. And it always would be.

I had so much fun writing this, would you like to see more one shots inspired by Taylor Swift songs?

[llamaqueenprompt]

Could you do a conrad fict based on red by taylor swift and could you make the ending where he shows up at her door in the middle of the night and takes her away

Thank you and I love your fan ficts 💜💜💜

Loveeee the idea, will make sure to write asap.

[llamaqueenprompt]

do you still write for jake ballard?

Hi, I do, but just under request, do you have a specific scenario you want to request?

[llamaqueenprompt]

Red Flags and Blushes . Part III

Characters: Max Verstappen, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 1.0k

Part I Part II Part III - Complete

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Y/n was doing everything she could to avoid him.

After that night - the storage closet, the reckless kisses, the way she’d let herself feel too much - she had made a decision.

A stupid, painful, necessary decision.

She couldn’t do this.

Couldn’t risk it.

Couldn’t risk him.

So she kept her head down, pretended to be busy, ducked out of rooms when she heard his voice. If she absolutely had to speak to him, she kept it clipped and professional, like he was just another driver.

Max wasn’t stupid.

And he wasn’t patient.

By the end of the third day, Y/n could feel the storm brewing behind her every time she turned her back on him.

She was reviewing race data in one of the smaller conference rooms when it finally happened.

The door slammed shut behind her, hard enough to make her jump.

She whipped around, and there he was.

Max.

Tight jaw. Blazing eyes. Still in his race suit, the collar unzipped, hair messy from the helmet. He looked like he’d just stepped oof the track, adrenaline still crackling under his skin.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

The tension was suffocating.

Y/n’s heart hammered painfully in her chest. She gripped the edge of the table, forcing herself to stay still.

Max took a slow step toward her. “You gonna keep pretending I don’t exist?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Y/n swallowed hard. “I’m working.”

“Bullshit.”

Another step closer. The air around them grew heavy, electric.

Y/n forced herself to look at the laptop screen, her fingers trembling slightly. “This was a mistake,” she said quietly. “We said…”

“I don’t care what you said,” Max cut in, sharper now. “You don’t get to pretend like that night didn’t happen.”

“It was nothing,” she lied, the words scraping against her throat.

Max laughed, bitter and disbelieving. “Nothing?”

He was standing right in front of her now, close enough that she could smell the faint traces of fuel and leather… and his skin, warm and infuriatingly familiar.

“Funny,” he murmured, tilting his head, “because when you were moaning my name against that door, it sure didn’t sound like nothing.”

Y/n flinched. “Don’t.”

Max’s face softened… barely. He reached out, brushing hic knuckles down her arm so gently it hurt.

“You’re scared,” he said, voice dropping low.

“I’m being smart,” she whispered, hating the way her throat tightened.

Max shook his head. “You’re running.”

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at the way he meant it when he said things like that.

“Max…” she breathed, her voice breaking.

“You think pushing me away is gonna make this easier?” he asked, voice raw now. “Because it’s not. For either of us.”

He leaned in even closer, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin. She shivered involuntarily.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Max said roughly. “You show up in my head at the worst fucking times. Before a race. After. In the middle of the night when I’m trying to sleep.”

Y/n bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.

“You’re in my head too much,” he whispered, almost angrily. “And you’re just gonna act like it didn’t happen?”

She blinked rapidly, fighting the tears burning her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to get complicated,” she admitted, voice barely there.

Max’s hand cupped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His touch was firm but heartbreakingly gentle.

“It’s already complicated, liefje,” he said. “You can either run from it, or you can fucking stay and deal with it.”

Y/n made a soft, wounded noise in her throat. She hated that he was right. Hated that her body ached for him even while her brain screamed at her to run.

“You deserve better than this,” she whispered. “You deserve someone who isn’t scared.”

“I don’t want someone else,” Max snapped. “I want you.”

Y/n’s cheat cracked open at the rawness in his voice.

No games. No pretending. Just brutal, terrifying honesty.

And she realized. She wasn’t scared of him.

She was scared of how much she wanted this.

Wanted him.

Max’s thumb brushed across her cheekbone, catching a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. His eyes softened immediatly.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Don’t cry.”

Y/n let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Max smiled, a real smile this time, soft and a little self-deprecating. “Means you care.”

“I do,” she said before she could stop herself. “That’s the problem.”

“No,” Max said quietly, leaning in until foreheads touched. “That’s the best fucking thing I’ve heard all week.”

Y/n laughed wetly, a small, broken sound. She let herself sag against him, and Max wrapped his arms around her instantly, anchoring her.

“I’m gonna crew this up,” she mumbled into his chest.

Max kissed the top od her head. “We both will.”

He tilted her chin up with two fingers, his eyes searching hers.

“But I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, voice fierce.

Y/n closed the last inch between them, finally, finally pressing her lips to his.

It was messy, all teeth and desperation at first, but then it softened into something slow, reverent. Max kissed her like she was aomething precious, something he didn’t know he was allowed to have but was damn well going to fight for anyway.

When they pulled apart, Emma was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Max grinned at her, forehead resting against hers again.

“You’re blushing,” he teased softly.

Emma groaned and buried her face in his chest. “Shut up.”

Max just laughed, the sound low and delighted, and held her tighter.

Neither of them said anything for a long time.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Red Flags and Blushes - Part II

Characters: Max Verstappen, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 0.8k

Part I Part II Part III - Complete

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Y/n lasted exactly twelve minutes.

Twelve minutes of pretending to care about telemetry data she wasn’t even seeing.

Twelve minutes of feeling Max’s gaze like a physical thing, burning across the garage every time she shifted in her chair.

Twelve minutes of remembering his mouth on her skin, the way he’d said her name like a secret only he knew.

She snapped the laptop shut harder than necessary.

Max noticed.

He always noticed.

Y/n got uo, her movements sharp, every nervr buzzing. She could feel him watching as she stalked across the garage, her boots thudding against the concrete floor.

The smart thing would have been to turn around.

The smart thing would have been to breathe and walk away.

But she wasn’t one for smart decisions.

Instead, she reached Max and grabbed his wrist, her fingers curling tight around the band of his watch.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised, but didn’t resist when she yanked him to his feet. His chair scraped loudly against the floor, but Y/n didn’t care who looked. Didn’t care what this would look like.

She hauled him toward the back hallway, weaving through the maze of equipment, storage crates, spare tires. Max followed easily, his long strides matching hers, and she could feel the smirk radiating off him even without looking.

“Y/n,” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear, “you’re making a scene.”

“Shut up,” she snapped.

He chuckled, the sound curling around her spine.

The reacher a door - storage closet - and she shoved it open, dragging him inside. The seond the door slammed shut, Max pinned her back against it with one fluid move, his hands braced on either side of her head.

Y/n’s heart hammered in her chest, wild and reckless.

“You gonna tell me what this is about?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

Instead of answering, she fisted the front of his fireproof undershirt and dragged him down to kiss her.

It wasn’t sweet.

It wasn’t careful.

It was hungry - a messy clash of lips and teeth and breathless gasps.

Max groaned against her mouth, deep and rough, and slid his hands down her sides, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

Y/n curled her fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl.

She felt him smile against her lips, sharp and wicked, before he kissed her harder, his hips pinning her tighter against the door.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, schat,” he rasped between kisses.

Y/n tilted her head back, giving him access to the curve of her throat. He took it eagerly, dragging his mouth along her skin, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

Good. She wanted him to leave a mark.

“Just shut up and touch me,” she whispered.

Max cursed under his breath and slid his hands under her shirt, palms hot against her skin. She shivered at the feeling, at the way his fingers dragged slow, teasing paths along her ribs before finally, finally moving higher.

She gasped when he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist instictively. Max’s mouth found hers again, desperate and bruising, his hands supporting her effortlessly.

For one dizzying second, Y/n forgot everything - forgot where they were, who they were, what a disaster this was going to be.

All she knew was Max.

Max, whose hands knew exactly how to make her shiver.

Max, whose mouth was sinful and selfish against hers.

Max, who kissed like he never wanted to let her go.

He ground his hips into hers, slow and deliberate, and Emma’s head thudded back against the door with a breathless moan.

“You said we couldn’t do this again,” he murmured against her lips.

“I lied,” she gasped.

Max laughed, low and wicked, and kissed her again, biting at her bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he said, his voice rough and shaky now, not nearly as smug as before.

“Probably,” Emma breathed, but her hands were already dragging his shirt up, fingers tracing every line of muscle underneath.

Max made a raw sound and pinned her harder against the door. His mouth was everywhere now - her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. Y/n dug her nails into his back, dragging him closer.

The heart between them built fast, overwhelming. His touch, his mouth, the rough scrape of stubble against her skin - it was too much and not enough, and Y/n never wanted it to end.

But eventually, they had to breathe.

Max rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting, his hands still gripping her thighs.

“You’re still blushing,” he whispered, lips brushing her temple.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut. “Shut up,” she muttered.

Max chuckled, low and rough, and kissed her again, slower this time. Lingering.

Like he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Like he never would be.

Y/n stayed pressed against him, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her chest, the solid weight of him anchoring her to the moment.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Maybe it was the best mistake she’d ever make.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Let Me In

Characters: Charles Leclerc, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 1.5k

Inspiration: “I never meant to hurt you.”

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Monaco had always been different. Everyone knew that. Y/n knew it.

There a special weight to it, not just because it was Charles’ hoem race, but because it was the race. The one everyone grew up watching. The one and only race he always wanted to win. The one that never loved him back.

And this year was no exception.

It started well enough. He had qualified second. The car, for some miracle, had pace. The air buzzed with a fragile optimism that maybe, maybe this was the year it would finally all come together.

But it wasn’t.

A slow pit stop. A lapse of judgment on a strategy. Had ruined the race. Two positions lost in the blink of an eye. And there it was again, the image that haunted Y/n more times than it should: Charles stepping out of the car, jaw clenched, eyes cold, body exhausted, not just from the race, but from the so called curse.

She was waiting for him in the paddock. Just outside the farage, but far away from the curious eyes. Her credentials hung from her neck, her fingers clutched around them to keep herself from fidgeting.

And then she saw him.

Helmet off, hair plastered down with sweat. He didn’t even stop by the team, just kept on walking, ignoring every call from everyone.

Including hers.

“Charles,” she said soflty, stepping forward, instinct taking over.

He looked past her.

Not at her.

Past her.

Like she wasn’t there at all.

She froze, the air knocked out of her lugs as he walked right by, disappearing into the back of the garage with the door shutting behind him.

Without him looking back.

Someone nearby whispered,”Ouch.” breaking her out of her state.

She turned and walked away before the rest of the heartbreak could become someone else’s paddock gossip.

By the time she got home, a storm had rolled in. The weather matching her insides

The apartament felt cold, hollow. Like the silence had been waiting for her.

Y/n paced for a while. Sat. Stood again. Repeat this motion time and time again. Tried to eat something. Gave up on eating. Turned on the tv. Turned it off. And every time her phone buzzed, she checked it, hoping it was him.

It never was.

Not a single message. Not even a read receipt on the one she sent: “Text me when you’re done. Please. I love you.”

She stood at the window and watched the rain slide down the glass. Waiting. Waiting for something.

The door finally opened just past midnight.

Charles stepped in like a man carrying the weight of the world. His shoulders slumped, race bag dangling from one hand. His expression hadn’t changed, he still looked detached, drained, heartbroken… stormy.

“You’re late,” Y/n said without turning around from her place in front of the window.

He closed the door behind him. “I stayed at the garage.”

She nodded slowly, arms wrapped around herself. “Of course you did.”

He paused. “I didn’t want to come back like that.”

She turned, fully facing him now. “Like what? Frustrated? Angry? Or guilty?”

He met her eyes then, just briefly, but we quickly look at the ground again.

“Just let it go, Y/n. Please.”

“No.” Her voice was sharp now, all the hurt that she had been feeling for hours, bubbling to the surface. “No, I’m not letting it go this time. You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” he snapped. “Having a bad race?”

“No!” Her voice cracked. “Shutting me out like I’m some stranger who doesn’t get to exist when things go wrong for you.”

Charles ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing slightly. “I’m exhausted. Can we not do this right now?”

She stepped forward, eyes blazing. “You ignored me. In front of the whole paddock. You looked right through me like I wasn’t even there. Do you know how that felt?”

Silence. Heavy. Sharp.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said finally.

Y/n laughed bitterly, wiping a tear that escaped without her permission. “You didn’t mean to. That’s your answer?”

“I was…” He stopped himself, jaw flexing. “I was trying to hold it together.”

Y/n’s eyes softened, the anger turning into something softer, something raw and aching.

“You don’t have to hold it together alone, Charles,” she said gently- “I’m here for you.”

He blinked, like the words surprised him. Like he hadn’t heard them in that way before, not without strings, not without pity. Just…love. Quiet, patiente love.

“I mean it,” she continued, stepping closer. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself. Whatever this is, losing, failing, breaking. You don’t have to carry it alone, I’ll be here to help you.”

His breath caught, shallow in his chest. “But it’s ugly, Y/n. It’s heavy. I don’t know how to let someone hold that without dropping it.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then slowly reached for his hand. “Then let me try. Because I’m not scared of your mess. But I do am scared of you shutting me out until there’s nothing left of us.”

Her fingers laced with his, gently but firmly, grounding him.

“I know how much Monaco means to you,” she said. “And I know it hurts. But you can’t keep locking that pain in… and pretending I’m not part of your life when it gets too hard.”

Charles’s eyes fell shut, his jaw trembling.

“I hate that I failed again,” he whispered. “In front of everyone. In front of my family. My friends. You. Every year, I tell myself I’ll finally get it right and I just… don’t. It’s like the circuit is cursed for me.”

Y/n squeezed his hand. “It’s not cursed. It’s just life. It’s cruel sometimes. It kicks you when you’re already down. But you don’t have to face it like you’re the only one fighting.”

He opened his eyes slowly, and for the first time that night, he looked tired. Not just physically, but soul-deep tired. Like he’d been carrying this weight for too long, and finally someone was offering to take some of it.

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmured.

“It’s not,” she said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite the tears in her eyes. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

Charles let out a shaky, uneven, vulnerable breath.

“I don’t know how to be that open,” he admitted. “I’m good at pretending I’m okay. At pushing through. At keeping everything buried under control. But I’m terrible at letting people see the cracks.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I already know they’re there,” she whispered. “You don’t scare me, Char. Not like that. Not ever. You’re not too much for me.”

He didn’t speak right away. His thumb moved slowly across the back of her hand, eyes fixed on the motion like he was trying to memorize the moment. Her presence. The calm she brought into his chaos.

“I think… sometimes I convince myself that if I let people in, they’ll leave the second they see what’s really inside.”

Y/n’s chest ached. “And sometimes, they don’t. Sometimes they stay.”

His gaze flicked up to hers, and something unspoken passed between them, something fragile and true.

She reached up and brushed her fingers along his jaw, the stubble rough beneath her touch. “I’m staying, Charles. Even when it’s hard. Especially then.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stepped into her arms and held her like she was the only thing tethering him to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her shoulder. “For today. For the paddock. For walking past you like you didn’t matter. You matter more than anything.”

“I know,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I just needed to hear you say it.”

“I’ll say it every day, if that’s what it takes.”

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “It’s not about what you say, Charles. It’s about letting me in. Let me see the real you, even when you’re losing. Especially when you’re losing.”

His throat worked as he nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Good.” She wiped a tear from under his eye with her thumb. “We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to be real.”

Charles leaned forward then, forehead pressed to hers, and they stood there in the quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound between them.

For the first time that night, the silence didn’t feel empty.

It felt safe.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Not Today

Characters: JJ Maybank, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 0.8k

Inspiration: “You’re not dying on me. Not today.”

Spoilers for season 4 finale

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One second JJ was standing in front of her, the next he was falling backwards holding his side.

It happened so fast.

One blink, one breath, and JJ was no longer on his feet, but on the ground, gasping and crumpling into the rocks with a soft, broken groan.

Y/n’s scream cut through the air like a blade. “JJ!”

She ran the short distance to him, dropping to her knees so hard ir hurt. But she didn’t care. Her fingers flew to his side before she could think, already soaked with warmth. Blood.

No, no, no, no.

His face was twisted in pain, lips parted, eyes bazed. “Hey, babe…” he murmured, almost casual. “It’s not that bad…”

“You’re bleeding, JJ!” she cried, pressing both hands over the wound, ignoring how slick and sticky everything already felt. Her voice cracked. “You’re… Oh my god, JJ, look at me.”

He blinked up at her, like he was trying to focus, like her face was the only thing keeping him anchored. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, broken and frantic. She ripped off part of her shirt and pressed it against his wound. “You think I’d leave you? You idiot.”

He smiled, a weak, crooked thing. “That’s why I love you.”

Tears tung her eyes. “Don’t say that like it’s a goodbye.”

JJ grimaced, trying to breathe, trying to stay with her. For her. “Not saying goodbye. Just… in case I pass out.. Wanted to make sure you knew.

“I do know,” she whispered, her forehead pressing against his as she held the makeshift bandage tighter to his side. “I’ve always known. And you’re not dying on me. Not today. Not ever.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

He trusted her like that. So completely. It made her heart hurt in a way that had nothing to do with dear and everything to do with how much she loved him.

And just when it all felt too much, the panic, the pain, the weight of what she could lose, Pope’s voice broke through the rocks.

“Y/n? JJ?”

She screamed their names back, relief hitting her like a wave. “Over here! He’s hurt!”

Seconds later, the other appeared, their faces exhausted, and Y/n let them take over only when she was sure JJ was breathing. His hand remained wrapped in hers, none of them letting go.

Later that night

The room smelled faintly of ocean dalt and antiseptic. The onld twin bead creaked under JJ’s weight, and he looked more like himself again, color back in his cheeks, blue eyes a little less glassy. Still banged up, still bandagded, but alive.

Y/n sat cross-legged next to him, one his hands holding her waist, while hers playing with her hoodie.

“You’re hovering,” he said with a lazy smile.

“I almost lost you,” she replied simply.

His smile softened. “But you didn’t.”

“No. Because you’re a stubborn pain in the ass.”

JJ chuckled. “Takes one to know one.”

They sat in silence for a moment, just the soft rhythm of the fan spinning above them and the occasional creak of the floorboards from the others moving around downstairs.

Then, JJ tugged lightly at her hand. “Come here.”

Y/n didn’t need to be asked twice. She climbed into the bed, careful of his injury, and curled up beside him. His arm wrapped protectively around her, despite the pain he was clearly still in.

“You scared me so bad,” she whispered into his chest, her fingers brushing along the hem of the gauze. “I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

JJ kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere, babe. Not now. Not when I finally have something that’s good.”

“You have everything now,” she murmured. “You have me. Forever, if you want me.”

He tilted her chin up, eyes warm and soft and so unlike the reckless daredevil the rest of the world knew. “I’ve always wanted you.”

“JJ,” she caressed his cheek. “We need to talk about tonight. About Gerard…”

“I know, but not now. Now I need to love my girlfriend.” he kissed the tip of her nose before moving to her lips.

Their kiss was gentle, slow, just lips barely brushing, but it said more than any dramatic speech ever could. It was a promise. A quiet, desperate kind of love that clung on even in the middle of chaos.

When they pulled apart, JJ grinned. “So, does this mean I can milk this stab wound for at least a week of cuddles?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed. “You can milk it for exactly one week. Then I start teasing you again.”

He laughed, winced, and held her tighter. “Deal.”

And for the first time in what felt like hours, she felt her heart settle.

He was okay. He was here.

And so was she.

Together. Always.

[llamaqueenprompt]

The Summers We Lost

Characters: Conrad Fisher, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 1.0k

Inspiration: “I thought I’d never see you again.”

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❁ Find out who I write for HERE

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❁ See the requests guidelines HERE

❁ Send me a request HERE

Y/n didn’t plan on stopping.

It was supposed to be a mindless drive up the coast. The kind of aimless wandering she told herself was for “clearing her head,” when really it was an excuse to avoid everything waiting for her back home. Her unfinished thesis. Her ex-boyfriend’s text she hadn’t opened in four days. The life she’d started to build, carefully, practically, without ever really deciding if she wanted it.

So when she passed the familiar turnoff, her hands moved on their own. No hesitation. No GPS. Just muscle memory.

Cousins.

It was quieter than she remembered. But then again, everything was. Off-season meant no beach towels staked into the sand, no bikes whirring down the boardwalk, no scent of grilled corn in the air. Just the briny breeze, teh rustle of dune grass, and the slow pull of nostalgia she couldn’t shake.

The Fisher house stood just as it always had - pale blue, weathered shutters, the porch swing still creaking softly in the wind. But it didn’t look like the house from her memoried. Not exactly. It looked…older. Like it had aged without her.

Her boots crunched against the gravel as she stood at the edge of the drive way, unsure if she had the right to take another step.

And then she saw him.

He was sitting on the porch steps, hunched over a notebook, pen in one hand, the other tangled in his hair like he was trying to wrestle a tought unto submission. He didn’t see her at first. She had time to drink in the sight - the slight curve of his shoulders, the new scruff along his jaw, the hoodie she’d stolen more than once in summers past.

He looked the same. And completely different.

Then he glanced up.

And everythings topped.

“Y/n?” he said, voice like gravel and rain. It had weight. It had history.

She froze, the air knocked clean out of her lungs. “Hi.”

Conrad stood slowly, like his body didn’t quite believe what his eyes were seeing. The pen dropped from his fingers.

“I thought..” He laughed, short and sharp. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“You’re not the only one.”

He stepped off the porch. They stood the closest to each other they had been in a long time. A breath away from one another.

“I almost didn’t come,” she said.

“Why did you?”

“I don’t know.” She looked away, squinting at the water. “Maybe I just wanted to remember who I was before everything got so complicated.”

A beat passed. The ocean whispered behind them.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked, nodding toward the house.

Y/n hesitated.

“Same furniture,” he added, a small smile twitching at his mouth. “Even the cursed lamp you hated is still there.”

That made her laugh. Just barely. “I hated it because it flickered every time we fought.”

He looked down, then back at her. “It still does.”

Y/n finally stepped forward.

Inside the air was cool. Everything looked the same, like a reminder that even though she changed she could still go back.

Conrad followed her into the kitchen, wordless. He poured her a glass of water without asking, like he’d done a hundred times before. Muscle memory.

She leaned against the counter. “So... what are you doing here? Off-season.”

He shrugged. “Spring break. Figured I’d come up, get some writing done, clear my head.” He glanced at her. “Looks like we had the same idea.”

Y/n traced the rim of the glass with her finger. “Do you write a lot now?” She pointed to the notebook on top of the table.

“Sometimes. When I can’t sleep.” He hesitated. “It’s mostly about things I don’t say out loud.”

She met his gaze, and something passed between them, heavy and delicate.

“Do you write about me?”

Conrad didn’t flinch. “Yeah. All the time.”

The silence swelled. She looked away first.

“I thought you hated me after that summer,” she said softly.

“I could never hate you,” he replied. “I hated myself. For letting you go. For not knowing how to hold onto something good without breaking it.”

Y/n’s throat tightened. “You could’ve called.”

“I know. I almost did, a hundred times. But what was I supposed to say? That I missed you but didn’t know how to be better? That I loved you but didn’t know how to show it?”

Her voice cracked. “You could’ve said something.”

“I was scared,” he admitted. “That I’d mess it up again. That you’d moved on.”

“I tried,” she said. “God, I tried. But no matter what I do, it’s like... part of me is still eighteen and barefoot in the sand, waiting for you to come back.”

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch, but close enough that she felt the warmth of him.

“I wanted to come back,” he said. “But I didn’t know if you’d still want me.”

Y/n stared at him. At the boy who broke her heart and the man he was becoming. And somewhere inside her, the part that had been frozen for two years began to thaw.

“Do you still love me?” she asked, the words like a dare.

Conrad didn’t blink. “I never stopped.”

She exhaled slowly, her chest tight. “And if I let this happen again... if we try... will you stay this time?”

He reached out then, gently taking her hand. His fingers laced with hers like they belonged there.

“I don’t have all the answers yet,” he said. “But I know I want to find them with you. If you’ll let me.”

She stepped into him, laying her head against his chest. He smelled like sun and salt and the quiet promise of something new.

“You have terrible timing, Fisher,” she murmured.

He smiled into her hair. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just late enough to be right.”

And for the first time in a long time, she believed it might be.

[llamaqueenprompt]

What You Mean to Me

Characters: Evan Buckley, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 1.6k

Inspiration: "You don't even realize what you mean to me"

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❁ Find out who I write for HERE

❁ Go to my Masterlist HERE

❁ See the requests guidelines HERE

❁ Send me a request HERE

As he walks in the firehouse feels different.

Not in any obvious way. The lights are dimmed, the hum of the fridge still buzzes in the background, and someone left their coffee mug in the sink again. But Buck can feel it. Like the air’s heavier. Or maybe it’s just him.

He moves slowly through the halls, each step eachoing back louder than the last, like the firehouse is holding it’s breathe just like him. He’s still reeling. Still trying to process everything Abby said. Everything she didn’t say.

He tought it would give him closure. Seeing her again. Hearing her voice. Actually talking to her. But if anything it just peeled open wold wounds that had never fully healed.

She’s getting married. She’s finally happy again. And Buck? Buck is standing here, heart cracked open and filled with the image of someone else entirely.

Y/n.

He finds her in the back office, exactly where he knew she’d be. She’s leaning over her desk cluttered with paperwork and half-empty coffee cups, her glasses sliding down her nose and a pen twirling between her fingers. She looks tired, like she’s been working too long. Like maybe she’s been waiting up.

When she sees him, she glances up, and the second their eyes meet, something shifts.

“Hey,” she says, softly. Gently. Like she’s afraid she might startle him away. “You’re back.”

He nods, his throat thick. “Yeah. Just got in.”

Y/n straightens, setting the pen down carefully. “How… how did it go?”

Buck leans agaisnt the doorframe, arms folded across his chest to offer him a sense of security. “We talked. About the train. About…everything.”

She nods, and her eyes flick away, like she doesn’t want him to see what she’s thinking. But he sees it anayway, the flicker od pain, the way her shoulders tense.

“She’s engaged,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “She met someone. Moved on.”

There’s a long silence.

Y/n swallows hard. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

But he shakes his head, stepping into the room. “No. Don’t be. That’s not why I’m here.”

She watches him carefully, warily. Like she’s bracing herself.

And she has every right to. Because what they had, what they have, has always lived on a fragile space. Somewhere between friendship and something more. Something unspoken. Their arrangement started with laughter and tequile and whispered “just this once” promises that turned into every night, and breakfast, and inside jokes, and familiarity that felt an awful lot like home.

They acted like a couple. They felt like one.

But Buck never let them be one. Not completely. Not whule Abby still haunted the edges of his heart.

And Y/n… God, Y/n stayed. She never asked for more. But he saw it. In the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. In the way she said goodbye a little too softly each time he left her apartment.

She loved him. And he let her sit in silenece with it all this time.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, and his voice wavers.

Y/n tilts her head, her hands curling around the edge of the desk. She doesn’t speak. Just waits.

“When Abby left,” Buck begins, “I felt like I’d lost a part of myself. Like I wasn’t enough. Like I’d been left behind.” He lets out a shaky breath. “And then you came in. All sharp wit and warm smiles and coffee with may too much cream. You made everything lighter, Y/n. You made me lighter.”

She blinks fast, her lips parting, but he keeps going.

“And I told myself it wasn’t real. That if I didn’t name it, it couldn’t hurt. That if I pretended it didn’t mean anything, I could keep you without the risk of losing you.”

Her voice is barely a whisper. “But you were still holding onto her.”

He nods. “I was. And that’s not fair to you. It never was.”

Y/n looks down at her hands, her fingers tightening. “I told myself I could handle it. That I could keep you in pieces instead of not having you at all. But it hurt, Buck. Watching you love a ghost while I stood right in front of you.”

“I know,” he says, his chest tight. “And I’m so sorry for that. I should’ve said this a long time ago. I should’ve seen it. Seen you.”

He steps closer, close enought now that he can see the shine in her eyes, the way she’s holding herself still like she’s afraid one wrong move will make everything fall apart.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he says softly. “Maybe the night you stayed up with me after I got hurt. Or when you showed up at the hospital with snacks you knew I wouldn’t eat but brought anyway. Or that morning you kissed my forehead and didn’t realize I was already awake.”

Her breath hitches.

“I just know I looked at you tonight, and everything clicked. I didn’t want to go back in time. I didn’t want to rewrite anything with Abby. I just wanted to come home. To you.”

He reaches for her hand, hesitates, then wraps his fingers around hers when she doesn’t pull away.

“You don’t even realize what you mean to me,” he hesitates. “But I want you to. I want to show you. If you’ll let me.”

Y/n’s eyes close for a moment, and when she open them, they’re glassy with tears.

“You really mean that?” she asks, voice trembling.

He cups her cheek, brushing away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “With everything I’ve got.”

And then she’s pulling him in.

No hesitation, no fear, just her resting her arms around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair like she’s afraid if she’s not touching him as much as possible, he’ll disappear aagain. Buck doesn’t waste a seconf. He holds her back just as tightly, his face buried in her shoulder, like maybe if he presses close enoigh, all the pieces of him, she’s quietly been carrying, will finally come home.

For a moment, neither of them speak. They just breathe. One another. Their feelings for each other.

The silence stretches, but it’s not awkward or heavy. It’s safe. Intimate. The kind of silence that only comes when words aren’t big wnough to hold everything between two people.

Eventually, Y/n pulls back just enough to look at him, her forehead still resting gently against his. Her eyes search his face, as if she’s memorizing the way he looks he looks at her like she is his world.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” she murmurs, the corners of her mouth trembling with the beginnings of a smile.

He exhales a soft laugh, one hand still resting on her wais. “I think I’ve been saying it without words for months. I just didn’t realize it.”

Y/n runs her fingers through his hair, slow and tentative, like she’s still trying to convince herself she isn’t dreaming. “I used to imagine this moment. You showing up, saying you wanted me. Choosing me. But I always woke up before the good part.”

“This is the good part,” Buck says, his voice low and certain.

She laughs, a watery, broken sound, and presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “I was so scared you’d go see her and realize I was just… a placeholder. Someone to make the quiet nights easier.”

“You were never a placeholder,” he says fiercely, his hand coming up to cover hers. “Y/n, you filled the space I dind’t could ever be filled. You brought me back to myself. You’ve been there tjrough every storm, and I was too blind to see that you weren’t just helping me survive…you were the reason I wanted to.”

He watched as her eyes fill again, but this time, it’s not just pain. It’s from love, open and shining and completely unhidden now.

She leans in, brushing her lips to his, soft at first, just a question, and when he answers with a deep, reverent kiss in return, it feel like the beginning of everything they never tjought they’d get to have.

The kiss in gentle and slow, not rushed like the stolen ones in dim hallways or post-shift goodbyes. It’s full of everything they’d left unsaid: I missed you. I wanted you. I love you.

When they finally break apart, Buck rests his forehead against hers again, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I want to do this right. No hiding. No halfway. I want breakfasts with terrible coffee and real dates and someone who keep stealing my hoodies even though she has her own.”

Y/n grins, teary-eyed and radiant. “I make your coffee better than anyone here, and you know it.”

“I do,” he says, his smile wide and boyish and utterly Buck. “And I want to fall asleep next to you without pretending it’s just for tonight. I want to wake up knowing I don’t have to say goodbye when I leave. I want us.”

Y/n nods, emotion tightening her throat, but she still finds the words. “Then we’re done pretending.”

He brushes a kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then finally, her lips again, soft and sure.

Outside, the firehouse is still. Quiet. But inside this small office, everything has shifted. The weight has lifted. The longing has found its answer.

And for the first time in a long time, Buck isn’t running toward the past.

He’s standing still, holding the future in his arms.

[llamaqueenprompt]

hiii i was wondering would you do a AU with charles leclerc x reader and charles is in prison and the reader goes to see him? and maybe he has a black eye or something.

i’m sure you get what i mean but feel free change it however you like! (i feel like prison charles leclerc would be so hottt)

Hi, thank you so much for sending your request. I will be writing (totally agree that prison charles will be sooo hot) it's going to take me a little bit, but I will make sure to tag you when I write it.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Red Flags and Blushes . Part I

Characters: Max Verstappen, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 0.6k

Inspiration: "Are you Blushing?"

Part I Part II Part III - Complete

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❁ Find out who I write for HERE

❁ Go to my Masterlist HERE

❁ See the requests guidelines HERE

❁ Send me a request HERE

The Red Bull garage buzzed around them - mechanics shouting, tires screeching, radios crackling - but Y/n barely heard any of it.

She was too busy trying not to look at Max Verstappen… Or worse - remember.

It had been three weeks since that night in Monaco. One mistake, one brutal, earth-shattering night.

She’d woken up tangled in his sheets, his arm slung lazily over her waist, the early morning light cutting across his face. And for one stupid second, she’d thought about staying.

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t.

“That can’t happen again.” she’d whispered, still half-dressed, still drunk on him.

Max hadn’t argued. He’d just given her a slow, unreadable smile and said. “If you say so.”

Now he stood a few feet away, the top half of his race suit tied around his wais, undershirt clinging to every inch of muscle, hair messy from the helmet. He look unfairly good - and judging by the smug curve of his mouth, he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Y/n pretended to study the laptop screen in fron of her, scrolling through telemetry data she wasn’t even processing. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

Professional. She needed to be professional.

“You’re really bad at pretending,” Max’s voice cut through the air, low and amused.

She froze.

Slowly, she looked up - and he was right there. Leaning against the table next to her, arms crossed, eyes glinting with amusement. His presence felt loud somehow, even though he wasn’t doing anything but standing there.

“Excuse me?” she said coolly.

Max’s smile widened just a fraction, like he was enjoying a private joke. “Pretending you’re not staing.”

“I wasn’t.”

Lying. Horrible, obvious lying.

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice just for her. “You always were a terrible liar.”

Y/n’s cheeks flamed. She hated how her body betrayed her - how just the sound of his voice, low and teasing, could unravel her so easily.

“You’re imagining things,” she said, turning back to the laptop.

Max chuckled, low and rough, a sound that scraped deliciously down her spine.

“Am I?”

He pushed off the table and moved closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of him. Close enough that old, dangerous memories flickered to life: the scrape of his stubble against her skin, the ways he’d murmured her name against her throat.

“You’re blushing,” he said softly, sounding almost pleased.

Y/n gritted her teeth. “No, I’m not.”

Max crocked his head, studying her like he already knew the answer. Like he knew everything.

Then, voice dropping to a whisper, he said, “Are you blushing, Y/n?”

She closed her eyes for half a second, just to steel herself. Because the way he said her name - low and rough and intimate - was unfair.

She forced a smirk onto her face and turned to face him. “Even if I was,” she said coolly, “it wouldn’t be because of you.”

Max’s smile turned downright dangerous.

He stepped in closer, his hand almost brushing hers where it rested on the table. Her breath hitched.

“You sure about that?” he murmured.

Y/n’s heart was hammering against her ribs. This was exctly why she’d told him no more.

Because Max didn’t just get under your skin - he stayed there, burrowed deep and permanent.

And the worst part? He knew it.

“Max,” she said, her voice low and warning.

He straightened a little, but the smirk never left his face. He stepped back, like he was doing her a favor, like he knew exactly how close she was to snapping.

“Relax,” he said, throwing her a wink over his shoulder as he walked away. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking we like each other.”

Y/n stood frozen, heart pounding, handa tembling slightly.

God, he was insufferable.

And damn it, she was blushing.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Guidelines

If you have a requested for anyone I have not listed, feel free to ask! I will try to answer and let you know if I will be writing it or not.

I'm holding myself the right to deny writing any requests due to personal reasons or just because I don't feel like the right person to write it.

If you send a request, it is likely that I might not write it right away or choose to save it for later.

Please write a description in your requests just so I know exactly what you want.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Not Happily Ever After

Characters: Alex Karev, Reader, Daughter

Not Requested

Word Count: 0.9k

Inspiration: “What happened to their happily ever after?” “Not all stories get a happily ever after”

“Daddy,” the little girl pulled on Alex’s hand, “can you put me to bed today?”

Alex looked up to the little girl’s mom and when she nodded he smiled back at the little girl and took her to her bedroom.

The little girl got cozy on her bed and patted the spot next to her so her dad could sit. “So, what story do you want as a bedtime story today?”

“Yours and mommy’s.” she grabbed her little surgeon bear and looked eye wide at her dad.

Alex swallowed dry. “Mine and mommy’s? You sure sweetie?”

“Yes, Daddy please.”

“Okay…”

Five Years Ago

Y/n had just transferred hospitals to be able to start her residency with the best of the best. It had been a big change across state lines to a city where she knew nobody. Seattle was rainy and gray, but it held a promise of a fresh start, the opportunity to build a career she had always dreamed of.

The first day at Grey Sloan Memorial was overwhelming - faces she didn’t recognize, halls she couldn’t navigate, and a workload that seemed insurmountable. But she was determined to make it work, even if that meant lat nights, early mornings, and pushing herself harder than she ever had before.

That’s when she met him.

Alex Karev was rough around the edges, a little cocky, but there was something about him that made her feel… safe. He wasn’t like the other. He didn’t care about impressing anyone, and he wasn’t afraid to call things as he saw them. For someone like Y/n, who was trying to navigate the complexities of a new hospital and the endless pressures of residency, Alex’s blunt honesty was a breath of fresh air.

Their relationship started with small moments - catching each other’s eye across the hallways, sharing a cup of coffee in the break room at ungodly hours, and venting about difficult cases after a difficult shift. Slowly what starts as a simple friendship blossomed into something deeper.

They started spending more and more time together, until one evening, when Seattle was being Seattle with its rain, Alex offered her a ride home. One ride turned into dinner, and dinner turned into a night that neither of them had planned, but both of them wanted. And from there things moved on quickly.

When they found out Y/n was pregnant, it wasn’t planned. They were terrified and excited all at once, and in those early days, it felt like they could take on the world together. They got married in a small, probate ceremony, just the two of them and a few close friends, and for a while, it seemed like everything was falling into place.

But life at the hospital was never simple. The hours were long, the cases were though and the pressure never let up. As their daughter grew, so did the distance between them. Y/n was trying to balance being a mother and a surgeon, while Alex was juggling his responsibilities at the hospital and his role as a father. The little moments that once brought them together became fewer and farther between, until it felt like they were living parallel lives.

They started arguing more - about work, about parenting, about things that didn’t even matter. They tried to hold on, for their daughter’s sake, but sometimes love isn’t enough.

One day, after another fight about something neither of them could remember, Alex walked out. He told himself that he needed space, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. He didn’t know how to fix what was broken, and he wasn’t sure if it even could be fixed.

Now, as he sat beside his little girl, watching her clutch her surgeon bear, he felt a deep pang of guilt. She was too young to understand why her parents weren’t together anymore, why her daddy didn’t come home every night like he used to. She just knew that something was different, and that made her sad in a way that broke Alex’s heart.

“Daddy?” she asked softly, her big eyes full of innocence and trust. “What happened to your and Mommy’s happily ever after?”

Alex took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her question settle on his shoulders. He looked at her, this little person who meant everything to him, and wished he could give her the fairy tale ending she deserved.

“Not all stories have a happily ever after, sweetie.” he said, his voice gentle but tinged with sadness. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth telling. Sometimes, people love each other very much, but life gets in the way. And that’s okay. What matters is that Mommy and I both love you more than anything in the world.”

She looked at him for a moment, as if trying to understand, then nodded slowly. “Okay, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, princess,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Always.”

As she drifted off to sleep, Alex stayed by her side, watching her little chest rise and fall with each breath. He knew he couldn’t change the past, but he could be there for her now. He could make sure that, even if his story with Y/n didn’t have a happily ever after, their daughter’s story could still be filled with love and hope.

[llamaqueenprompt]

the honorary WAG - cl16

summary: yn has always been known as 'the honorary wag', since she's kika's best friend and adored by all the other wags, but what happens when the girls want her to become an official wag? a bet to get her and charles together before kika and pierre's wedding sounds like a plan.

word count: 6.9k + social media posts

folkie radio: i saw that video of alex and charles dancing at a wedding and i felt like i NEEDED to write something that involved charles and weddings, this was the result ! i really hope you like it (if you do please leave a reblog)

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, yourinstagram and 2,037,465 others

pierregasly Last night I proposed to the love of my life and she said yes. @/francisca.cgomes I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, I love you ❤️

view all 54,268 comments

username1 OMFG

username2 NO WAAAAYYYYYYY

lilymhe CRYING RIGHT NOW 😭😭🥺💗

↳ username1 AHHH THE WAGS NEED TO BE BRIDESMAIDS

alex_albon Amazing news ❤️ ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc Wow I can’t believe my childhood best friend is getting married, you both deserve all the happiness in the world and I’m so happy for you ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 CRYING AGAIN

↳ username3 he needs to be the best man idc

username3 this wedding is going to be out of this world

francisca.cgomes IM STILL OVER THE MOON. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ♥︎ by author

↳ username5 KIKA IS GOING TO BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BRIDE EVER

landonorris YOO I CANT WAIT FOR THIS PARTY ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes, yourinstagram, lewishamilton, iamrebeccad, oscarpiastri

↳ username1 LANDOOOO PLEASE

↳ username2 and i can’t wait to see him absolutely wasted

yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND IS GETTING MARRIED 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM CRYING AGAIN ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes

↳ username3 yn and kika are the it girls

↳ username4 she’s probably going to be the maid of honor im crying over people who don’t know me

liked by francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer and 65,826 others

yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD IS GETTING MARRIED 🥺 im so happy for you both @/francisca.cgomes @/pierregasly (even if that means that you finally stole her from me) let the wedding planning begin 🕺

view all 3,237 comments

username1 congrats kika and pierre !!

username2 it girls ❤️‍🔥

carmenmmundt This wedding will be the best thing ever ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, iamrebeccad

↳ lilymhe I KNOW

↳ username3 i love that yn is not a wag but she’s loved among the wags anyway

username4 oh to be a guest at this wedding

landonorris Can I be a bridesmaid too?

↳ pierregasly No

↳ francisca.cgomes No

↳ username1 HEEEELP poor little lando norris 😭

francisca.cgomes I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SISSY 🥺 you’ll always be my wifey even if i’m married to someone else ♥︎ by author

↳ pierregasly That hurt

↳ yourinstagram OOPS

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gasly - gomes wedding 💍💍 groupchat

the bridesmaids 👯‍♀️ groupchat

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INSTAGRAM

liked by username1, username2 and 54,837 others

womenofthepaddock Kika Gomes (soon to be Mrs. Gasly), Carmen Montero (Spain’s national treasure) and YN (the honorary WAG) have arrived to the Paddock #SpainGP

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username1 SLAYYY

username2 they’re all so stunning omg

username3 oh to be one of them

username4 i love how yn is really the honorary wag

↳ username1 she should just date someone from the grid atp ♥︎ by lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe, iamrebeccad

↳ username2 ALL THE WAGS LIKING THIS COMMENT 😭

username5 i NEED yn’s outfit

username6 get yourself a bestfriend like kika gomes who takes you to formula one races

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📍BARCELONA, SPAIN.

Every time you agreed to join Kika for her boyfriend's (and now, fiancé) races, the same question came to your mind: "Why is the paddock so confusing?"

You were currently trying to make your way back to Alpine hospitality, where you're supposed to watch the race from, but you kept getting lost. The maze of motorhomes, garages, and bustling activity was overwhelming. The constant hum of mechanics working, team members rushing around, and fans hoping for a glimpse of their favorite driver made it all more chaotic.

"YN, hey!" you heard a voice call out for you, turning around, you saw Rebecca and Carlos walking your way.

"Hey guys," you greeted them with a small hug once they approached you.

"Got lost again?" Carlos asked, and you remembered the time he found you in the same situation a couple of years ago.

"Yeah, this place is like a labyrinth. I have no idea how you guys navigate it so easily."

"Years of practice," Carlos chuckled, "Come on, We'll walk you to Alpine. It's not too far from here."

"Wait," Rebecca said before you could even start walking, "Why don't you come to Ferrari with us a bit, I'm sure Kika and Pierre won't mind."

Your eyebrows immediately raised at Rebecca's suggestion, noticing the teasing smirk on her face. She wanted to carry on with her (and the girl's) plan of making you like Charles.

Charles Leclerc, loved by millions, but you weren't quite one of them.

It's not that you actively disliked him, but there was something about him that didn't sit right with you.

Maybe it was the fact that every single time you've interacted with him ever since you started joining Kika for F1 stuff, he was somehow rude to you.

The last thing you wanted was to have an awkward interaction with him at the Ferrari garage, but you knew Rebecca wouldn't let you go that easily.

"Okay, fine," you sighed, "I'll come with you guys.

"Great! Let's go then." Rebecca's face lit up with a smile.

The three of you walked towards the Ferrari garage, the race wasn't starting for another few hours so you knew you were inevitably running into Charles once you got there.

"This is the perfect opportunity to clear the air between you and Charles," Rebecca elbowed you, almost making you roll your eyes, "Who knows? Maybe you have more in common that you realize."

"You and Charles don't like each other?" Carlos asked you, reaching out to hold his girlfriend's hand.

"Stop, It's not like that," you said, almost throwing your head back in frustration, "Every time we've interacted, he's been... dismissive. Rude, even. I don't know if it's just me or if he's like that with everyone."

"Charles can be a bit intense sometimes, especially on race weekends," Carlos pointed out, "But he's a good guy. Maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot."

"Maybe," you muttered, not entirely convinced.

You eventually reached the Ferrari garage, Rebecca and Carlos led the way, weaving through the throngs of people with ease. You tried to keep up, feeling a bit like a fish out of water in the sea of red uniforms.

You spotted Charles almost immediately, deep in conversation with one of his engineers and not even noticing that the three of you entered the room.

"Charles, hey!" Rebecca called out for him, you really admired her determination on the matter.

"Hey guys," Charles approached you, and you couldn't help but get a good look at him.

He might not be your favorite on the grid, but you couldn't deny that he was really handsome.

"You remember YN, right?" Rebecca asked with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Of course," Charles replied, a small smirk playing on his lips, "You're going to be Kika's maid of honor, right?"

"That's right," you nodded, a bit surprised he remembered.

Rebecca and Carlos exchanged a knowing glance before Carlos spoke up, "We need to go check on something. You two, catch up."

You shot them a look of disbelief, but they were already walking away, leaving you and Charles alone.

"So, what have you been up to?" Charles asked, leaning casually against the wall. "It's been a while since I've seen you around."

"Yeah, I haven't really been able to come to any races, I'm moving to Monaco, so that has been keeping me busy," you said, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Really? Which area?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

You told him the name of the neighborhood, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No way. I live there too. Are you the one who's been making all those moving noises two houses away from mine?"

"I fear that would be me," you laughed, feeling some of the awkwardness melt away, "I didn't know you lived there."

"Small world, huh?" he chuckled, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of the Charles that everyone else seemed to adore.

"Yeah, it is," you agreed, still a bit cautious but warming up to him. "Guess we'll be seeing more of each other."

"Looks like it," he said with a smile, "I mean, at least you'll have someone you can ask for a cup of milk when you run out."

As you continued to chat with Charles, you found yourself genuinely enjoying the conversation. It was a stark contrast to your previous encounters with him, and it made you question your initial judgment. His smile was warm, his laugh infectious, and the more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Rebecca and Carlos across the garage, watching the two of you with satisfied smiles and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at them. You were already expecting the girls groupchat to explode with messages about you and Charles.

"Looks like your plan is working," Carlos said to Rebecca, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Told you it would," Rebecca grinned, "The rest of the girls and I even made a bet."

"A bet?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Yep," Rebecca confirmed, a playful glint in her eyes. "We bet on getting them together before Pierre and Kika's wedding. We all agree they'd make a great match."

"You and your schemes, amor," Carlos chuckled, shaking his head, "But I have to admit, you might be onto something."

Rebecca leaned her head on Carlos's shoulder, watching you and Charles laugh together. "Trust me, Carlos. Sometimes people just need a little nudge in the right direction."

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INSTAGTAM

liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc and 70,002 others

yourinstagram back on the f1 gig and reunited with my girls 🤍 the last slide shows how much the soon to be married couple loves each other

tagged: francisca.cgomes, pierregasly, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and iamrebeccad

view all 3,987 comments

username1 SLAYYY

username2 the honorary WAG for real

carmenmmundt I missed you so much 🫶 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram same here 🥲

f1gossip We love the WAGS (and yn) being besties

↳ username1 they need a masterplan to make yn a wag ♥︎ by iamrebeccad, lilyzneimer, francisca.cgomes

pierregasly My fiancée loves me 🥰

↳ francisca.cgomes more like tolerates

↳ yourinstagram she’ll always love me more

lilymhe bridesmaids gang 👯‍♀️ ♥︎ by author

↳ landonorris Am I still not allowed in the gc?

↳ francisca.cgomes exactly

↳ username2 HEEEEEELP

charles_leclerc Lovely to catch up. See you around in Monaco 😉 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram likewise 😊

↳ username1 HELLOOOO???

↳ username2 SOMEONE DECODE THIS

↳ username3 i think this is the first time i see charles and yn interact 😭😭

iamrebeccad My job here is done

↳ carlossainz55 😂😂😂

↳ yourinstagram never trust the sainz-donaldson couple…

↳ username1 WHATS GOING ON HERE

↳ username2 lord i’m so nosy i need to be part of their friendgroup

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📍MONTE CARLO, MONACO

Living alone it's all fun and games until you get locked out of your house after a quick run to the store for some late night snacks.

You stood there, staring at your sophisticated security system installed in all the houses in your upscale Monaco neighborhood —one that was definitely too expensive for you, but you were grateful the company you worked for paid for your rent — feeling utterly defeated.

The high-tech lock had its advantages, but it also meant that once you were locked out, getting back in without a key was next to impossible.

Sighing, you pulled out your phone and texted Kika, hoping she might be able to help.

You frowned at the suggestion. Asking Charles for help wasn’t your first choice, especially given your rocky interactions in the past. And yes, maybe you had a great conversation in Barcelona but that didn't mean that he suddenly liked you and would be willing to help you.

What if he's busy? Or thinks you're stupid for locking yourself out of your own house? What if this is all part of the girl's plan of setting you up with a driver?

Were some thoughts that ran through your head as you stood in your porch. But with no other options, you pushed them away and sent him a message.

You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. Asking Charles, someone who you disliked from time to time and thought he hated you just a few weeks ago for help wasn't on your bingo card, but there you were waiting for him to show up.

True to his word, Charles arrived shortly, wearing a casual outfit that made him look really comfy, and you prayed that you didn't disturb him too much with your antics.

"Locked out, huh?" he said with a grin.

"Yeah, stupid me forgot the keys inside," you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"No worries, happens to the best of us," he said, pulling out a set of keys from his pocket. "I actually learned a trick for these locks. All the houses here have the same system, and I’ve had my fair share of lockouts."

You watched as he worked with the keys and the lock, not sure of what he was doing but trusting his word that he knew how to unlock it. After what it seemed like a minute, your door unlocked with ease.

"Thank you so much, Charles. You saved me," you said, letting out a sigh of relief, "And I'm really sorry that I bothered you, you must've been busy or just resting and I made you get out of the house."

"Hey, It's okay," he said, flashing you a warm smile, "Told you could shout if you needed a spare cup of milk, or in this case, a way into your house."

"Thank you a lot, really."

You smiled softly as you both stood on your porch, and he mirrored your gesture. You looked at his features for a moment, his eyes were soft and a beautiful shade of green and blue, he looked extremely cozy clad in his hoodie and joggers.

Ugh why are you even thinking about Charles Leclerc like that? The voice inside your head came out again. And you didn't have an answer for it, but you pushed the thought away and focused on the present moment.

"So, how's the unpacking going?" Charles said after a minute of silence.

"It's getting there. Still a lot to do," you shrugged.

"Well, if you need any help, just let me know," he offered. "I'm pretty handy with setting up furniture and stuff."

"I might take you up on that," you said, and you fell into silence again.

And that's when you realized that for some reason, you didn't want the interaction to end, and something about the way he looked at you made you feel like he didn't want it either.

"How about you come in for a cup of tea?" you suggested without even taking a spare second to think about it, "As a thank you for helping me out, I mean."

He looked pleasantly surprised. "I'd really like that. Thanks."

You led him inside, quickly tidying up a few stray boxes before boiling water for tea. Once it was ready, you both sat down with steaming cups of tea, and you started talking about the topic that was inevitable among the grid and friends: Pierre and Kika's upcoming wedding.

"Can you believe they're getting married?" you asked, stirring your tea.

"I know, right?" Charles replied with a chuckle. "Pierre's been so excited. He talks about it all the time."

"They're such a great couple," you said, smiling. "Kika has been my best friend for years. I couldn't be happier for her."

"Yeah, Pierre is like a brother to me," Charles added, his expression softening. "He deserves all the happiness in the world."

You took a sip of your tea, feeling the warmth spread through you, "They deserve each other."

"By the way," Charles said, setting down his cup, "have you thought about what you’re going to wear?"

"I’ve been stressing over it," you laughed, "I want to find something perfect, and I feel like I'm running out of time."

"I’m sure whatever you choose will be great," he said reassuringly. "You have good taste."

"Thanks," you said, feeling a bit flustered by the compliment. "What about you? Got your outfit ready?"

"Not at all," he replied with a grin. "You know, since you're the maid of honor and I'm the best man, we should coordinate our outfits," he suggested with a playful smile. "Imagine how great we'll look standing next to Pierre and Kika if we match."

You laughed at the idea. "Maybe we should. It would make for some great photos."

"I can already see it now," Charles chuckled, "The perfect duo."

The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying Charles's company. He was funny, engaging, and far from the dismissive person you initially thought he was. You talked about everything from the wedding to your favorite places in Monaco, your work, his feelings about the F1 season so far and you couldn't help but think about how much the girls would freak out if they saw you talking and engaging the way you were.

Maybe they were right about you and Charles getting along well, but they're wrong about you possibly dating him, because you weren't looking for that, you thought to yourself again.

As the night drew to a close, Charles stood up to leave. "Thanks for the tea and the company, YN. I’m surprised we never got to talk like this before."

"Me too," you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt for your previous judgments about him. "I'm glad we did, though. And thank you again for helping me tonight, you were kind of my savior."

"Stop thanking me, you already did it like ten times," he said as you both walked to the door. "Are you going to the race in Austria this weekend?"

"I wasn’t planning on it," you said, "Kika's not going, and I usually go with her."

"Well, you could be my guest this time," he offered, a hopeful look in his eyes. "It could be fun."

You blinked, taken aback by his offer. "Are you serious?" you asked, needing to be sure you heard him right.

"Absolutely," Charles said, his tone sincere, "I know you're good friends with the girls and you love hanging out with them. It would be fun, and I'd love to have you there."

Your mind raced. When you left your house a few hours ago you never expected to get locked out which would lead to end your night with an invitation from Charles Leclerc to the Austrian Grand Prix, offering you a chance to spend time together at a race.

The wheels in your brain turned, making you unsure of your answer, when deep down you knew you wanted to take on his offer and go to Austria. You loved attending races and being around everyone in the F1 world, at first it was just something you did with Kika because of her boyfriend, but now it was something you enjoyed a lot.

Plus, you had to admit, the idea of spending more time with Charles was becoming increasingly appealing.

On the other hand, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt in the back of your mind. Was this just Charles being nice? Or what if the girls had put him up to this in another attempt to set you two up? You didn't want to complicate things somehow, especially with Pierre and Kika's wedding on the horizon.

Realizing you had been silent for a moment too long, you looked at Charles, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation, and maybe you were crazy, but something in his face told you that he wanted you to say yes.

"That sounds amazing, Charles," you said, a small smile playing on your lips, "But… can I think about it? It sounds fun but I want to make sure I can make it work with my schedule."

"Of course," he replied with a nod, not pushing you for an immediate answer, "Just let me know soon so I can make the arrangements if you decide to come. I'd really like to have you there."

"Thanks, Charles," you said, feeling a warmth in your chest at his genuine interest. "I'll let you know soon."

"Great," he said, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter a little. "Goodnight, YN."

"Goodnight, Charles," you replied, watching as he walked away.

As you closed the door, you had one thought running through your head: the bridesmaids groupchat is about to go crazy

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the bridesmaids 👯‍♀️ groupchat

charles and yn texts

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📍SPIELBERG, AUSTRIA

The Austrian GP weekend had been eventful so far to say the least. When you arrived on friday, you expected to catch an Uber to your hotel, or for someone sent by Charles to pick you up.

But turns out, Charles himself was standing there as you walked through the gates, waiting for you with a warm smile.

None of the girls ended up attending the GP, so you spent most of your time with Charles. It felt strange at first, since you had never spent much time interacting with him before, but you'd be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it.

Despite the friendly atmosphere off the track, it was a tough weekend for Charles competitively. His car had plenty of complications, from engine issues to problematic tires, which led him to a bad result on Sunday.

With that excuse, you suggested buying him dinner. You thought it would be a good way to cheer him up and to thank him for the weekend. It was friendly and casual.

You decided to have room service in his hotel room, neither of you in the mood to go outside, so you ordered a couple of pizzas, a bottle of wine and desert.

As the room service cart rolled in, you both laughed at how much food you had ordered. "I think our eyes were bigger than our stomachs," Charles said, eyeing the spread.

"Well, we have all night to work through it," you replied with a grin.

You both settled on the couch, the boxes of pizza open in front of you and glasses of wine in hand. If someone had told you a few months ago that you would be in this context with Charles Leclerc you'd laughed at them.

You knew the girls would have a field day when they found out.

"I'm really glad you came this weekend," Charles said after chewing on his slice of pizza, "It's been nice having you around."

"I'm glad I came too," you said, smiling back. "I didn't realize how much fun it would be. I always come to the races with Kika so this was different. Thank you again for asking me."

"I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about asking you," Charles took a sip of his wine, "I wasn't sure if you'd want to spend time with me."

You almost tensed at his words. All this time, you had assumed he disliked you because he had been rude or dismissive in your past interactions. But maybe it had all been a misunderstanding, like Kika had told you multiple times.

Damn you hated when she was right.

"Why wouldn't I?" you partially knew the answer, but you still wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I don't know. I guess I always thought you didn't like me much," he shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I thought the same thing about you," you laughed softly, "I figured you were being rude because you didn't like me."

"I never meant to be rude to you, at least not intentionally," Charles shook his head, "I'm really sorry if I ever was."

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "It's okay, Charles. I guess we both just misunderstood each other."

"I'm glad we cleared that up," Charles gave a relieved smile, "It feels good to finally talk about it. Honestly, with the wedding coming up and the roles we're playing in it, I was nervous about the entire thing being awkward."

"We're good now," you said, feeling a genuine warmth spread through you. "And now I can join you in suit shopping without it being awkward."

Charles laughed, a sound that was starting to become one of your favorites. "Oh yeah, we still have to do that. We're definitely matching."

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INSTAGTAM

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yourinstagram lots of red and lots of room service ❤️

tagged: charles_leclerc

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username1 SLAYYYY

username2 CHARLES AND YN???

lilymhe The one time we all decide to skip the GP… ♥︎ by francisca.cgomes, carmenmmundt

↳ lilyzneimer literally

↳ iamrebeccad 😭

↳ username1 WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT LET ME INNNNNNNNNN

pierregasly I guess you don’t need me for paddock passes anymore ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram i’ve never needed you that was always kika

username3 wait are her and charles together ??

↳ username4 they could be friends chill

username5 yn finally becoming a wag??? the masterplan worked ♥︎ by iamrebeccad, lilyzneimer, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe

↳ username1 ALL OF THE WAGS HERE AGAIN 😭

charles_leclerc Always a pleasure 🤍 ♥︎ by author

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gasly - gomes wedding 💍💍 groupchat

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📍MONTE CARLO, MONACO

"Charles you literally just passed me."

"Did I? Oh, I see you now," Charles said as he spotted you walking towards his car, hanging up the phone and parking so you could get in.

You got into the passenger seat, clicking your seat belt and dropping your hands to your lap, "Hello there."

"Hi love," Charles leaned in to peck your cheek, "How was work?"

This was routine by now. After your time alone in Austria, you and Charles couldn't stop hanging out. He picked you up from work, you cooked dinner for both of you, you had sitcom marathons together and so on.

It felt nice.

"It was meh," you shrugged, "My day is about to get interesting, though, isn't it?"

"If you find looking at ties and shirts for hours any amusing, then yes it is."

Today was the day you and Charles had been talking about for so long, you'd get his outfit for the Gasly-Gomes wedding.

You got your dress already, it was a beautiful satin green dress you absolutely loved. Since Charles was away racing when you bought it, you showed it to him through FaceTime and he insisted he needed to get the perfect suit to match it.

"It's going to be fun," you poked his side as he drove, "But we do need to find the perfect fit, Kika is going to kill us if we ruin her pictures."

"I mean you're going to look stunning so I just need to stand next to you and hope it rubs on me," he shrugged, and you felt your cheeks burn.

Charles made a habit out of complimenting you at this point, and even though you didn't want to think too much about it, you found yourself melting every single time.

"Feeding my ego again, Leclerc?" you teased.

"Just stating the obvious."

You engaged in small conversation as he drove to the boutique you've previously picked as your first option. One of the things about your unexpected friendship with Charles that you loved the most was how easy it is to talk to him about anything. It was easy, comfortable, and it made you realize just how much you enjoyed his company.

When you arrived at the boutique, Charles opened the door for you, a small gesture that always made you smile.

Inside, the boutique was filled with racks of elegant suits and dresses. A sales assistant approached you, and you explained what you were looking for. She guided you to a section with suits that could match what you needed.

Charles began browsing through the racks, holding up different jackets and shirts for you to see. After some deliberation, Charles found a suit that caught his eye.

"Try it on," you urged him, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Charles disappeared into the fitting room, and you waited eagerly. When he emerged, your breath caught in your throat. The suit fit him perfectly, making him look even more handsome than usual.

Since when were you this down for this man?

"What do you think?" he asked, turning to look at himself in the mirror.

"It's perfect," you said, "You look amazing, Charles."

He grinned, clearly pleased with your approval, "You think I look amazing, huh?"

"Don't let it go to your head, Leclerc," you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile.

With the suit sorted, you moved on to finding the perfect tie. After a bit of searching, you found one that matched your dress perfectly. You held it up for Charles to see, and he nodded in approval.

"Looks great. Now, help me put it on?" he asked, a hint of playfulness in his eyes.

"Sure," you said, stepping closer to him.

As you worked on his tie, you realized just how close you were standing. Your hands moved deftly, but your heart raced with the proximity. You could feel Charles's breath on your face, and you couldn't help but glance at his lips every now and then. His eyes were fixed on you, a soft intensity in them that made your knees feel weak.

"There," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "all done."

But neither of you moved. Your faces were inches apart, and the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity. You noticed Charles glancing at your lips, and you wondered if he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"Shame on Kika and Pierre," Charles said softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "We'll definitely be the best-looking pair at the wedding."

You laughed lightly, the tension easing just a bit. "Absolutely. They'll have to step up their game."

Charles's hand came up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so tender it made your heart flutter even more. "Thanks for helping me with this," he said, his voice sincere.

"Anytime," you replied, your voice equally soft.

You lingered a moment longer. It was just you and Charles, standing so close, sharing a moment that felt incredibly intimate. Eventually, you both stepped back, a silent understanding passing between you.

You really wanted him to kiss you

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INSTAGRAM

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yourinstagram two weeks away from the gasly-gomes wedding: the happy couple, suit picking, speech writing and last girls trip as single ladies 🥲

tagged: fracisca.cgomes, pierregasly, charles_leclerc, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt

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username1 THE WEDDING IS SO SOOOOON

username2 BOYFRIEND CHARLES CONTENT JUST DROPPED

↳ username1 omfg are they together ???

iamrebeccad 🤍🤍🤍🤍

lilymhe “last girls trip as single ladies” and you’re the only one who’s actually single (not for long tho) ♥︎ by francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt, iamrebeccad

↳ username1 LILY😭

↳ yourinstagram 🙄🙄🙄🙄

username3 we love the honorary wag

username4 charles in a suit i’m going insane

landonorris Can’t wait for the most alcoholic weekend of the year ♥︎ by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lancestroll

↳ pierregasly I’m terrified already

charles_leclerc Best man and maid of honor, match made in heaven ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 CHARLESSSSS

↳ francisca.cgomes you’re welcome

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

the bridesmaids 👯‍♀️ groupchat

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📍PORTOFINO, ITALY

The most awaited weekend of the year was finally here, the Gasly-Gomes wedding bound was in full swing. Guests arrived to Portofino from all over, their excitement palpable as they gathered to celebrate the love between Pierre and Kika.

Despite Charles' attempts to convince you to fly with him, you were firm on your decision of flying with Kika, you knew how nervous she felt and you wanted to be by your best friend's side for the most important moment of her life.

However, you were attending the rehearsal dinner together. Which had caused a commotion with the girls earlier in the week.

Their so called plan of getting me a boyfriend from the grid won't work, you thought to yourself, I'm not even looking for a boyfriend, Charles is my friend.

The rehearsal dinner was set in a beautiful, intimate restaurant overlooking the sea, and you were waiting for Charles at the hotel's reception to leave together. You smoothed out your dress, glancing at the grand clock on the wall, you felt a bit nervous, which only made you think about Kika and the fact that she was probably a million times more anxious.

"Hey there," Charles's voice broke through your thoughts. You turned to see him approaching, looking effortlessly handsome in a tailored suit, "Mon Dieu, you look insanely gorgeous."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words. "Thank you, Charles. You clean up pretty well yourself."

He grinned, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

You linked your arm with his, and together you made your way to the car waiting outside. The drive to the restaurant was filled with light conversation and laughter. Charles had a way of making you feel at ease, and tonight was no different.

As you arrived at the venue, the soft glow of candles and string lights illuminated the setup. Tables were adorned with flowers, and the sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop. You could see Pierre and Kika at the entrance, greeting guests with radiant smiles.

You were really happy for them.

"Let's go say hi," Charles suggested, leading you towards the happy couple.

"You both look amazing!" Kika exclaimed once you approached them, hugging you tightly. "Thank you for being here."

Pierre soon joined, greeting both you and Charles with a warm smile. "Thanks for keeping her sane on the flight here," he joked, giving Kika a playful nudge.

"It's the least I can do, you already stole her from me ," you said with a grin.

"I promise to share her from time to time." Pierre joked, making all of you laugh.

The four of you exchanged a few more words before making your way into the venue. The atmosphere inside was magical, the soft hum of conversation and laughter filled the air.

You really could feel the love and excitement radiating from everyone present.

You made your way towards the table, noticing Lando by the bar already. You couldn't help but giggle, he was dead serious about going all out with the alcohol this weekend.

You settled into your seats, Charles opening your chair for you before sitting down. You were at a big table where most drivers and their partners were already settled, Carmen and George next to you and Max and Kelly on Charles' side.

Damn, you were really the honorary WAG

"What?" you said, noticing Carmen's teasing smile as she glanced at you and Charles.

"Oh nothing," she shrugged, "You guys look really cute together."

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "Thanks, Carmen," you replied, trying to brush off her comment. "We're here as friends."

"Sure, sure," Carmen said with a wink, and you couldn't help but chuckle at her persistence.

The evening flowed smoothly, the conversations lively and the laughter contagious. As you sipped on your champagne, you couldn't help but steal glances at Charles. He seemed so at ease, laughing and joking with the others, his eyes occasionally meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

Dinner was served, a spread of Italian cuisine that had everyone praising the chefs. You and Charles shared bites of each other's dishes, a habit that had become second nature.

After dinner, it was time for the speeches. Since you were best man and maid of honor, you came up with the idea of surprising Kika and Pierre with heartfelt messages, which lead you to nights of takeout at his place to help each other write your speeches.

Charles was the first to stand, his presence commanding attention as he held up his glass.

"Bonsoir, everyone," he began, his voice clear and confident, "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Charles,"

"No one knows you! You're not world champion," Max yelled from his place, making everyone laugh.

"Somebody's jealous because he's not best man, I see," Charles teased, causing laughter again, "Anyway, I have known Pierre for many years now, and I can honestly say he is one of the best friends I could ever ask for. And Kika, you have brought out the best in him. Your love story is truly inspiring, and I am so honored to stand here today as your best man."

His words were heartfelt and genuine, and you could see Pierre and Kika's eyes shining with emotion. Charles continued with anecdotes about him and Pierre's karting days and well-wishes, his speech met with applause and cheers by the end.

It was your turn now, you were nervous but Charles sent a wink your way as he passed you the microphone that made you relax.

"Kika and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember," you began, your voice steady. "We have shared so many incredible moments together, and seeing her find someone who makes her so happy is truly a blessing. Pierre, you have brought so much joy into her life, and I am beyond thrilled to see you both start this new chapter together."

Your speech was filled with love and appreciation, and by the time you finished, there were a few more teary eyes around the room. Kika hugged you tightly, whispering her thanks in your ear.

After the speeches, the lights dimmed, and music began to play. Everyone gathered around the dance floor, and Charles turned to you with a mischievous smile. "Care to dance?"

"Sure," you replied, taking his hand as he led you to the center of the dance floor. The music was slow, and Charles pulled you close, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You danced together, your bodies moving in sync. You felt his breath on your cheek, and the warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine. You looked up at him, your faces inches apart, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.

From across the room, Lily and Rebecca watched with satisfied smiles. Alex joined them, raising an eyebrow. "So, you think your plan worked?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

"Definitely," Lily said, her eyes twinkling. "Look at them. They're practically made for each other."

Rebecca nodded in agreement. "We've been planning this for months, and it looks like it's finally happening."

"Well, I have to admit, you girls make a pretty good matchmaking team," Alex chuckled, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.

"We just knew they needed a little push," Lily grinned, "And now, look at them. They can't take their eyes off each other."

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TWITTER

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liked by iamrebeccad, charles_leclerc and 254,378 others

yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND JUST GOT MARRIED 🥲🥲🥲 brb i’ll be dancing and weeping all night

tagged: pierregasly, francisca.cgomes

view all 5,106 comments

username1 OMFG KIKA LOOKS STUNNING

username2 AHHHH THIS CONTENT

lilymhe same over here 😩😩 ♥︎ by author

username3 god i’d give up my first born yo be at that wedding right now

yukitsunoda0511 yukierre is for life ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram so is kikayn

↳ username1 I LOVE THEM 😭😭

↳ username2 ooohhh yuki and yn should get together so she’s finally an official wag

↳ username3 NOOO WE NEED CHARLESYN

francisca.cgomes I LOVE YOU JUST GRABBED MY PHONE TO COMMENT ON THIS ❤️❤️ now back to my wedding lol ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 she’s too iconic

liked by username1, username2 and 25,926 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc getting cozy with one of the bridesmaids at the Gasly-Gomes wedding 😳

view all 2,004 comments

username1 OMFG

username2 LOOORD

username3 ISNT THAT YN 😭😭

↳ username1 YEAH

username4 oh god lando really exposed them, someone take his phone from him

username5 WHAT DOES THIS MEANNNN

username6 oh to be at that wedding right now

username7 YN HONORARY WAG IS NO MORE ITS TIME FOR YN REAL WAG ERA

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📍PORTOFINO, ITALY

Kika Gomes and Pierre Gasly were finally married.

The ceremony was held at a charming seaside chapel, adorned with white flowers and delicate ribbons. Guests filled the pews, their faces reflecting the joy and love of the occasion.

You stood beside Kika as her maid of honor, heart swelling with pride and happiness as she exchanged vows with Pierre. Charles, standing beside Pierre as the best man, caught your eye several times, his gaze warm and reassuring. The ceremony was beautiful, filled with heartfelt words, laughter, and a few tears of joy.

Charles made sure to compliment you from the moment he first saw you, and everyone was gushing over the two of you being color coordinated, just like you thought they would be.

After the vows were exchanged and the couple was pronounced husband and wife, it was time for the reception, or as Lando Norris would like to call it, the time to get absolutely wasted.

The party was held at a stunning villa overlooking the sea. The evening was filled with delicious food, heartfelt toasts, and lively dancing.

Just like the rehearsal dinner two days earlier, you and Charles were together all the time. Sitting beside each other at the table, Charles grabbing the train of your dress for you when you needed it, keeping at least a hand on each other all the time. You knew that wasn't "we're just friends" behavior, but you were too happy to mind.

As the night progressed, the drinks kept flowing, and everyone was in high spirits. Lando, true to his word, was leading the charge in getting everyone to the dance floor. You and Charles danced together, his hands on your shoulders as you swayed to the music, his breath on your neck as he whispered to your ear.

You knew some prying eyes were on both of you — and by that, you mean Rebecca, Lily and their respective boyfriends—, but once again, you were too happy and tipsy to mind.

After hours of dancing and celebrating, you finally took a break and sat down with your friends at one of the tables near the dance floor.

“You two were adorable on the dance floor,” Lily teased, giving you a playful nudge.

“Oh, stop,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “We’re just having fun.”

“Yeah, right. Just friends, huh?” Rebecca smirked.

Before you could respond, Charles appeared at the edge of the table, looking as handsome as ever, his suit jacket long forgotten and a few buttons of his shirt undone.

You were really down bad for him.

“Mind if I steal YN for a bit?” he asked, his eyes twinkling from the alcohol.

"Let the girl breathe mate! She's probably tired of you," Carlos teased, earning a round of laughter from the table.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "I think I can manage a bit more of Charles," you said, standing up and taking his offered hand.

"Of course you can," Rebecca said with a smirk. "Go meet your boyfriend."

You rolled your eyes again, but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across your face. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you protested weakly, standing up from the table.

“Not yet, anyway.” Lily laughed.

You ignored her comment, though your heart did skip a beat. You don't know if Charles had heard any of it, but you let him lead you out to the terrace, your hand wrapped around his. From the corner of you eye, you saw Kika looking at you, nudging her husband and pointing at you both, teasing smiles on their faces.

They just got married so you'll let it slide.

“Nice to get a break from all the noise,” you said once you reached the terrace, leaning against the railing and looking out at the sea.

“Definitely,” Charles agreed, standing close beside you. “It’s been a perfect night, though.”

"I know," you smiled softly, "I'm so happy for Kika and Pierre, they deserve this so much."

"They really do. It's been a beautiful day," Charles nodded, his eyes fixed on you, "Just as beautiful as you."

He stepped closer, wrapping a hand around your waist, pulling you gently against him. Your heart raced at his touch, and you couldn't help but glance at his lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. You'd thought about it more times than you'd like to admit, and the way he glanced at yours told you he did too.

“Charles,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “what are you trying to do?”

He smiled, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m trying to charm the pretty bridesmaid,” he replied softly, his thumb tracing small circles on your waist.

You laughed, feeling a flutter in your stomach. “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, leaning in slowly.

He closed the distance between you, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss was everything you’d imagined and more, slow and sweet, filled with a longing that had been building for months. His hands slid up to cup your face, deepening the kiss, and you melted into him, losing yourself in the moment.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Definitely working,” you whispered, making him chuckle.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes full of affection. “Good to know,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth.

You spent a few more moments on the terrace, talking and laughing, sharing more kisses and wrapped around each other.

You were not sure what this meant for your friendship, but you were too happy to care. The night felt magical, like a dream you never wanted to end. It was a night of new beginnings, not just for Kika and Pierre, but maybe for you as well.

As you both made your way back inside, hand in hand, you noticed a few knowing smiles and exchanged glances among your friends. Kika and Pierre were still on the dance floor, looking blissfully happy, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy for them.

“Look who’s back!” Lando called out, a wide grin on his face.

“What’s going on?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at their suspicious behavior.

Kika abruptly approached the group, dragging Pierre by the hand a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Everybody pay up,” she said, holding out her hand.

Charles and you exchanged confused looks. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“We had a bet going,” Kika explained, clearly enjoying this. “We bet that we could get you two together before the wedding. And technically, we did.”

“Damn, I didn't think you girls would actually make it happen,” George handed over some money with a laugh.

“Wait, you all really bet on us? The infamous masterplan was actually a real thing?” you asked, still processing the revelation.

“Of course it was,” Rebecca said with a grin. “It was obvious to everyone except you two.”

"I can't believe you guys," you said, shaking your head but unable to suppress a smile, covering your face with your hands, Charles pecked your temple gently.

"To be fair, the girls started it, we just joined in later," Oscar said, trying to deflect the blame.

“I can’t believe it took a wedding and a bet to get us here," Charles chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "I guess we owe you all a thank you,"

"No need to thank us. Just be happy," Carmen sent a wink your way, making you smile.

"Alrighty, a toast now," Lando said, climbing on top of a chair. Everyone knew he was too drunk to be stopped so you just let him, "To Kika and Pierre the happiest and most beautiful couple in the world!"

"Hear, hear!" echoed through the crowd as glasses clinked together, laughter and cheers filling the air.

"And to YN finally becoming an official WAG!" Kika chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief, making the girls cheer.

"Official, huh?" Charles murmured, leaning in closer.

"We'll talk about that later, Leclerc," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of dancing, laughter, champagne and celebration. Charles never left your side as you enjoyed with your friends.

As the party continued, you found yourselves on the dance floor once more, swaying to a slow song. Charles held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you. "So, how does it feel to be an official WAG?" he asked, his breath warm against your ear.

"As far as I'm concerned, you haven't asked anything, mister," you teased raising your eyebrows.

"Well then, consider this me asking," he murmured, his voice playful yet sincere.

"In that case," you began, teasing him further, "I suppose it feels pretty good."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Good to hear," he replied softly, brushing his lips against your temple.

Being an official wag was amazing

[llamaqueenprompt]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

a/n: i finally did it🥳🥳 but daddy i love him by taylor swift was written for him and only him and you can’t change my mind! not my favorite fic of mine but i hope you enjoy!

warnings: not proofread yet!!! all of the lyrics of the song are basically in this fic lmao, lots of hate towards the pogues but nothing major other than that

word count: 3.2k

pairings: jj maybank x kook!reader

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—

Kooks and Pogues.

Always one against the other.

That’s how it’s always been in the Outer Banks. If you’re a Kook, you cannot like a Pogue, and it goes both ways.

It is a rule as old as the island, one that never changed and never will. It would be a scandal if it did, right?

You were never one to have cared about something as stupid and superficial as that. Although considered Kook princess — that was the nickname that everyone had gifted you since birth — you also appreciated the company and friendship of those who should’ve been your greatest enemies.

It didn’t help the fact that you were in love with one of them, either.

JJ Maybank was as local as they came. Never had anything to his name, unless we count the remaining five dollars in his old wallet, and always on the run — from what? Perhaps it is better that we don’t ask him that.

We could put it this way: if you were Kook princess, he could’ve easily been Pogue prince.

It should’ve been unusual for the two of you to have ever even had a conversation, let alone one long enough to have made the both of you fall in love. The thing was that you had no problem in talking with him, and he had no reason, nor enough self control, to not have flirted with you any time he’d had the chance.

All of the time you had been spending with JJ and his friends, getting acquainted with them and sharing those whispered secrets that only those whom you trust the most know about, it had all led you to that moment — lying in your lover’s arms.

Your back rested against his bare chest as your bodies were being soaked by the warm rays of sun and lulled by the gentle movement of the waves that were dancing underneath you. JJ’s arms circled your waist with greed and affection, for he could have never gone a day without feeling your skin beneath his loving touch, and his head was hidden in the crook of your neck — the place where he belonged.

“Wanna stay like this forever,” he mumbled in your skin, tickling it in the process, “Feels like heaven.”

You hummed in content, “Me, too.”

The pair of you had been stuck in your place all morning, just letting the waves and JJ’s surfboard take you wherever they wanted to and hoping it was as far away as possible. You hated that your relationship had to be kept as a dirty secret that no one was supposed to know about, but what were you expected to do but ignore your elders, and most of your peers, and let your heart beat for the only man that owned it. It is impossible to control one’s heart’s reason to beat, and one as big as yours was even more untamed than others.

Sneaking away was fun for sure, but you wished to scream it from the rooftops. JJ was no different from you, and he would’ve made you officially his if it hadn’t been for the judgmental creeps and the fear of your parents taking you away from him.

And so, with the uneasy knowledge of being unaware of the next time that your heart would beat against his, he walked you home that early morning. The sound of the birds chirping was peaceful and rendered the journey more bearable — although it was your smile that had made everything so much more than only bearable to JJ.

You couldn’t have known that someone was watching you as your boyfriend led you to the rich side of the island, that was Figure Eight, waiting, almost wishing, for you to make a mistake.

“I’ll see you tonight, princess?” He whispered on your lips as your bodies were being hidden by the large oak tree just a few blocks before your house.

You grinned up at him and nodded, brushing your mouth against his as you did so. “See you tonight, baby.”

—

You didn’t like lying to your parents. Having to make up excuses whenever you wanted to go out wasn’t fun, but a dutiful daughter, the Kook princess, couldn’t have been seen hanging out with people that belonged to a lower class than her. What your parents didn’t know couldn’t have hurt them.

Therefore, you began getting ready to see your Pogue prince that evening, knowing that your parents believed that you were going to a friend’s house. Just as you were finish buttoning your dress, JJ’s favorite, you heard your father come back home, slamming the front door of your house with anger and impatience. It was unusual, which was why your brows automatically furrowed at the loud sound, that it was then followed by his voice, yelling your name.

You all but ran down the stairs, attempting at understanding the commotion, but it seemed that your mother had already gotten the news that your dad hadn’t told you yet. He looked at you as if you had been his greatest disappointment.

“What’s going on?” You asked, scared of even letting out those words.

Your father stated at you for a second before he finally confessed the reason of his obvious fury. “How could you have done this to me? How could you have done this to your family?” He raised his voice, and you had never felt smaller than you had in that moment.

“I - I don’t understand.”

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was for me, huh? Everyone pitied me! And then, it was Ward Cameron that had to tell me that my daughter was hanging out with some…Pogues.”

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

He knew. They knew everything.

“We raised you better than this!” Your father all but yelled as his forefinger pointed at you, and you were sure he was wishing to have had a knife at the end of it.

Tears began running down your face as you attempted at walking closer to him. “But dad, I love him!”

He scoffed — mocking you and your choice of words. “I don’t care if you think he’s the love of your life, he’s not! He cannot provide for you and he’s not the man that I want my daughter to be seen with.”

You turned to your mother, hoping and praying to find consolation and understanding in her. “Mom, say something, please!”

Shaking her head, she only laid her eyes on you to show you the dissatisfied look in them. “I can’t, honey. Your father is right. That boy is only trouble and you deserve better…more.” Although seeming sad, she rejoiced and a glad appearance casted on her as she continued, “That’s why we’re going out to dinner with the Thornton’s tonight. Their son is a fine man, you’d be a very lucky girl.”

To say the world was crumbling all around you was an understatement.

More.

What was ‘more’? You deserved more than someone who loved you and cared for you as if you hung every star in the universe? You needed more than a man who would’ve laid down his life for you?

At that point, you were unable to control the never ending tears. “You’re serious?! I’m not going out with anyone, you can’t force me!” You raised your voice as well, as you couldn’t believe that they thought it would’ve been possible for your heart to beat for someone else.

Without ever taking another glance at you, “My house, my rules,” your father exclaimed, his words tasting like venom when he announced his last words on the matter, “You’re not to see him ever again. That is final.”

Devastation was all you knew. How could they have taken him away from you? The only good thing in your life, the only person that made you feel like you were real, alive, like you could be whoever you wanted to be, and now, he had been brutally stolen from your fingertips, slipping through them without control.

That was your life after all — a continuous scroll of events that you had no say in nor any control, always under the rules of society and your parents. They had simply made the ultimate decision of stealing your last crumble of freedom.

As much as you wanted to hear JJ’s voice, you couldn’t call him. It would’ve been cruel to the both of you to admit those last words out loud. Instead, you texted him to warn him that your parents knew about the two of you and that you couldn’t go out with him that evening — cowardly avoiding him.

And so, you wore the dress that was supposed to be for him and the natural-looking makeup that you knew he was obsessed with, and let your parents manipulate your life once again.

—

“This is a darling restaurant. Thank you for inviting us tonight.” Mr. Thornton formally announced as you, your parents and the Thornton’s sat down at your reserved table.

Perhaps you were being too dramatic, but you felt like you were sitting down for your last supper — you were being sent to the gallows and your parents had been the culprits.

Topper Thornton relaxed in his seat right next to yours, a smug smile on his face while he listened to the two married couples talk about arguments that were as interesting as the weather. In the meantime, your silence was loud. You were screaming at the bars of the cage you that they had trapped you in, praying for someone to come rescue you and help you escape.

Then, you heard Mr Thornton call your name, which caused you to look at him.

“We’ve heard the stories about those Pogues, you know.” And you didn’t miss the judging stare in his eyes as you attempted at stopping yours from rolling in the back in your head in annoyance. “It’s good that you’ve come to your senses, young lady. We all want what’s best for you.”

It was hard to keep your laughter in almost as much as it was to not show your disapproval. “Right,” you whispered under your breath as you looked over the menu in your hands as if it had been the most beautiful thing in the world, “What’s best for me.”

Your mother hissed your name in order for you to have been the only person to hear her, “Play nice.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, “It would be a shame to disgrace your good name, and for someone like those low-lifers.” He chuckled at his last words as you wondered how many stabs it would’ve taken your knife to make him shut his mouth.

You landed on three.

And just as you were about to respond with another quick remark, you heard his voice. You swore your eyes were about to pop out of your head and your smile had been impossible to stop when he had said, “Good evening. I’ll be your waiter tonight. Are you ready to order yet?”

The JJ Maybank cocky grin stared at you and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside you that only the calming ocean in his eyes was able to provide.

You weren’t sure if anyone at the table knew that he was the one that you had been seen with, but from the way no one batted an eye, you realized that they had no idea — after all, Pogues all looked the same to them, so how could they have known it was that particular one that had stolen your heart? (other than multiple of other things, but that’s another story.)

Once everyone had ordered, JJ left, although he never took his eyes off of you — or maybe what he couldn’t stop staring at was the closeness between you and Topper.

“I will admit that they’re not all bad.” Mrs. Thornton admitted, which gained everyone’s curiosity, “These Pogues, I mean. Some of them try to work their way up. Nonetheless, I don’t think it’s right for them to ruin the reputation of someone who comes from such a good family.”

You couldn’t believe that they were still talking about it — as if it wasn’t a Pogue who was handling their food in that very moment. The twitching of your eye was hopefully undetectable as the conversation went on and on, getting worse by the second.

“They’re known thieves, for sure.”

“Most of them have never attended school, either.”

“They ruin this island’s credibility.”

All of the alcohol that you had ingested that evening hadn’t been enough for you to stop yourself from abruptly getting up from your seat and earning a few looks from the tables around you as the loud sound of your chair on the expensive pavement of the restaurant filled the air.

“What are you doing? Sit down!” Your father whispered sternly, an embarrassed expression on his features while he looked around.

“I - I have to go to the restroom.” Finally you shakily exclaimed before all but running to the nearest bathroom, just dreaming about some fresh air. It felt like torture to stand there and listen to them talk about your friends — your boyfriend, for god’s sake — as if they had been the worst people on the planet.

As you quickly walked to what you hoped to have been a restroom, you felt a hand wrapping around your arm and dragging you through another door, which immediately led you to the back of the restaurant. A tiny scream escaped from your lips in surprise, but it was stopped by the weight of a hand.

“I’m sorry, princess, it’s just me.” JJ chuckled as he closed the door behind you and let you rest your back on it.

“Jay,” you breathed, and it felt like the first time you had been able to do that that evening, “what are you doing?”

Letting his hands dance down your torso until his arms circled your waist, he bent his head down to meet yours. “It’s killing me to see you with him, you know that?” He lowered his voice, which sounded deeper and richer than usual, and it caused butterflies to come alive in your stomach.

You placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the rough skin with your thumb and pulling him impossibly closer. “My parents are forcing me,” you sighed, “They just keep going on and on about Pogues and I can’t listen to them anymore.” And as you noticed the strange look in his eyes, the obvious hesitation in them, you added, “You know I don’t care about him, right?”

He smiled and gently brushed the tip of his nose against yours as he breathed you in. “I hate this, baby. I wish I could be there with you instead of him.”

“Me, too.”

“And he better keep those hands to himself.”

You chuckled lightly at his words, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good.”

JJ noticed the tears that started to prick at your eyes immediately and his hands flew to your face, holding the soft skin and forcing you to stare into his honest eyes. “Hey, hey. This doesn’t mean we have to break up, alright? We’ll figure it out, princess, we always do, okay?” You only got to nod once at his words before his lips touched yours, slowly and passionately while his arms held you closely to his body. “I love you.” He mumbled on your mouth.

“I love you, too, Jay.”

—

“What took you so long?” Your mother asked as you came back to the table, your hair now out of place — not that you cared about it anymore.

“Just needed to get some air.” You wore your best fake smile and drank your glass of wine in one sip before pouring yourself another one. “Have we finally changed the subject?”

Your dad reprimanded you by saying your name, a threatening tone hiding behind it.

You shrugged, “What? You can all speak poorly of Pogues as if I weren’t here but I can’t say anything about it? Thought this was a free country.”

Mr. Thornton looked like he was having a stroke and his wife was none the better. “You should be more grateful about what you have, young lady.”

You snorted, more loudly than you wanted to, but you had seemed to have lost all inhibitions. “You know what, Mr. Thornton? I’ve always been grateful. I’ve always been the perfect, dutiful daughter, and my parents still don’t trust me, so what’s the point, right?” You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, and sure that you were causing a scene, you decided to finish off the show. “So what if my boyfriend’s a Pogue? Why should everyone care about that?”

Just like all of the waiters, JJ was watching the scene, and although he loved how you were defending him, he decided it was the right time to rescue you. He all but ran to you, clapping his hands a couple of times to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, folks. Show’s over.” He announced as he approached your table.

“You have to calm down and sit back down.” Your mom told you while placing a hand in front of her face in order to hide her embarrassment.

“And you want to know what’s funny? You’ve been shit talking about my boyfriend all night and he was our waiter all along.” You drunkly laughed while JJ tried to keep you upright.

“Way to keep it a secret, babe.” He whispered, although a mischievous smile adorned his lips.

This time it was your father who got up from his seat, pointing a finger at the man whose arm was the only reason why you were still standing. “You…You’re the Pogue who brainwashed my daughter!”

“He did what?!” You let out another laugh, but the look on your face said everything anyway.

“With all due respect, sir —“

“Stay away from my daughter! And don’t talk to me.” He interrupted JJ, catching him off guard.

“You’re so scared of what this relationship might lead to, but you know what? I’m already having his baby.” You didn’t miss the way everyone stared at you shockingly, and even though you wanted to keep it up, you couldn’t help but retract it immediately, “No, I’m not, but you should see your faces!”

“Now we really should leave.” JJ admitted, grinning at you. He grabbed your glass and took a sip of it, at which you laughed loudly once again.

“Thank you for the lovely evening, Mr. and Mrs. Thornton. You two are unbearable.”

“Yep, lovely evening and everything.” He yelled as you two ran towards the exit.

“Come back here right now!”

Your heart beat rapidly as JJ hopped on his bike and waited for you to do the same, the sound of the vehicle revving making you all the more excited. Your arms held on tighter to him and you swore you could hear his heart beating faster as well.

“You ready, baby?”

“Floor it, Jay.”

And you would’ve paid all of the Kook money in the world to have seen their faces as the Kook princess drove off with the Pogue prince.

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@notslay-norcleor @poppet05 @solargazes @cindersnightmare @chaostudee @goldenroutledge @harleyharlot @babypoguelife @voguesir @vigilanteshitposting @gemofthenight @magnificantmermaid @f4ll-for-you @marzipaanz @guililove @freyawhitexxx1 @mistalli @shady-the-simp @fangirl-madz @one-sweet-gubler @camelliaflow3r @emery-333 @hallecarey1 @lovelornanonymity @rafetopia @maybankslover @futurecorps3 @bxrbie1 @maybanksbabe @moremaybank @jjsbank444 @vivian-555 @jjfordays @highpope @livsters @starkeylover @peachpitlover @fishingirl12 @congratsloserr @loveu-always @rentaldarling @embersfae @bee6r @savagemickey03 @lunalovegood156 @idli-dosa @riveramour (i haven’t updated the taglist in a long time so if you don’t find yourself in it, please be patient with me, i will update it as soon as possible)

[llamaqueenprompt]

Man’s World

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari engineer!Reader

Summary: Charles refuses to just stand by and watch as you get disrespected

Warnings: misogyny and lewd comments

You’re admiring the sleek lines of the red Ferrari F8 Tributo in front of you, running your fingers lightly over the glossy paint. The showroom is quiet this early in the morning, just a few employees milling about getting ready for the day.

Charles had to stop by to sign some merchandise for a charity event and asked if you wanted to tag along. You opted to wait out front and enjoy the eye candy while he took care of business.

You circle around to the back of the car, appreciating the aggressive styling and massive rear diffuser. As an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari who often extends your expertise to working on their road cars, you know every detail of this machine intimately. Your hands itch to pop the hood and inspect that glorious twin-turbo V8, but you resist.

This isn’t your workshop back in Maranello.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the group of guys entering the showroom until one whistles loudly. “Hey baby, those legs look good enough to wrap around me real tight,” one calls out.

You freeze, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“Don’t be shy, we just want to get to know you better,” another says as they swagger over.

You press back against the car, sizing up the situation. Four of them, all clearly well-off based on the expensive watches and designer clothes. But their eyes are cruel as they look you up and down.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The apparent ringleader asks. “Hoping to sink your claws into some rich guy and take him for all he’s worth?” The others laugh nastily.

You lift your chin. “Actually, I happen to work for Ferrari.”

The man snorts in disbelief. “Yeah right, and I’m Michael Schumacher. There’s no way a woman knows anything about these cars other than where the passenger seat is.”

You clench your fists, biting back a scathing retort. The thought of educating these misogynistic jerks gives you immense satisfaction, but you know it won’t do any good. They’ll never change their prejudiced attitudes.

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” one says, giving you a lecherous look. “I’d be happy to take you for a ride, show you how a real man handles power between his legs.”

You’re about to tell him exactly where he can shove his stereotypes when a familiar voice interrupts sharply.

“That’s enough.”

You look over to see Charles striding angrily toward you, green eyes blazing. The men surrounding you look irritated at having their fun spoiled.

“Can we help you with something, pal?” The ringleader asks sarcastically.

Charles ignores him, coming to stand protectively beside you. “Are you okay, mon amour?” He asks under his breath.

You nod, relief washing over you now that he’s here. “I’m fine.”

Charles turns an icy stare on the men who’d been harassing you. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to my girlfriend that way,” he says coldly.

The leader looks Charles up and down dismissively. But then a spark of recognition crosses his face. “Wait a minute … you’re Charles Leclerc!” He elbows his friends. “The Formula 1 driver!”

The others’ eyes widen as they take in Charles with new understanding. “Whoa, seriously?” One exclaims.

The leader chuckles, clearly trying to recover his bravado. “Well, what do you know? The famous racer has a pretty girl on his arm.” His lips curl in a smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s obvious she’s just using you for your money. No way she knows anything about these cars other than how much they cost.”

Charles crosses his arms. “As it so happens, my girlfriend is an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari, so I’d bet my entire net worth — and my car collection — that she knows more about the cars in this dealership than all four of you combined and then some.”

You have to bite your lip to hide a smile at the dumbfounded looks on the men’s faces.

“An engineer?” One sputters. “You can’t be serious.”

You level a challenging stare at them. “Deadly serious. I’ve personally worked on over a dozen projects for Ferrari, including the SF90 Stradale hypercar we just launched.” You point across the showroom. “There’s one right over there, in fact. Mid-front mounted 4.0L twin-turbo V8, delivering 769 brake horsepower combined with three electric motors. First plug-in hybrid Ferrari ever put into full production.” You smirk at the slack-jawed stares your technical rundown elicits. “So yes, I’d say I know a thing or two about these cars.”

Charles grins proudly and squeezes your hand. But the leader is not ready to back down just yet.

“Anyone can memorize a monologue,” he scoffs. “I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just clinging to this guy for his money.”

Fury rises in your chest. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Charles beats you to it.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” he snaps, green eyes blazing. “I’d be very careful with what you say next.”

The man smirks, crossing his bulky arms over his chest. “Or what, tough guy?”

Charles takes a step forward, jaw clenched. The man towers over him but Charles doesn’t flinch.

Right as it looks like things might get physical, you quickly take Charles’s arm. “He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Charles hesitates, nostrils flaring. After a tense moment, he relaxes his stance and turns his back on the leering man.

But it seems the group isn’t done provoking you yet. “That’s right, listen to your sugar baby,” one of them calls out. “Wouldn’t want you messing up that pretty face for the cameras.”

Charles whips back around, shaking with anger now. Heart pounding, you cling to his arm in an effort to hold him back. “Charles, please-”

“No, Y/N.” He shakes off your hand, stalking toward the men. “I won’t stand here and let them insult you.”

You watch helplessly as Charles gets right in the leader’s face, nearly nose to nose. “You need to apologize. Now,” he grits out.

The man narrows his eyes. “Apologize? For what? Stating the obvious?” He smirks coldly. “Face it, your little girlfriend is nothing but a gold diggin-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. With lightning speed, Charles’ fist connects squarely with his jaw. The man stumbles back with a pained shout, hand flying to his face.

“Charles!” You hurry to his side, alarmed. Charles is breathing hard, staring down at the man doubled over and groaning. The man’s friends back away nervously.

Chest heaving, Charles turns to you. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t listen to him insult you for another second.”

You meet his fiery gaze steadily. “It’s okay, I understand. Thank you for defending me.” After a beat, you add wryly, “And remind me not to get on your bad side.”

That startles a small laugh from Charles. The tension in his shoulders eases. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “No chance of that, mon ange,” he murmurs. “You bring out the best in me.”

***

“Ow, ow, ow!” Charles hisses as he gingerly holds his right hand. His knuckles are bruised and bleeding.

You sigh, grabbing the first aid kit to tend to your dramatic boyfriend. “I told you not to punch him, Charles. You don’t know the first thing about throwing a proper punch.”

Charles pouts, wincing as you take his hand in yours to examine it. “I was just trying to defend your honor, mon amour. That man was saying such crude things about you.”

You shake your head, amused by his protectiveness. “My hero,” you tease. “Next time just walk away. I don’t need you breaking your hand over some entitled idiot’s comments.”

Charles hangs his head. “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just saw red when he kept insulting you.”

You smile softly, touched by how much he cares. You start cleaning the wounds on his knuckles with a disinfectant wipe.

“Ow!” Charles cries out dramatically. “That stings!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you chide. “It’s just a little antiseptic. I have to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.”

Charles pouts some more but stays still as you finish cleaning the abrasions. You apply an antibiotic ointment carefully before beginning to wrap his hand with a bandage.

“I really messed up my hand, didn’t I?” Charles mumbles dejectedly.

You nod. “You definitely did some damage. Nothing serious, but you’ll be sore for a while.”

Once you’ve wrapped his hand securely, you bring it to your lips and place a gentle kiss on the bandage. “There. All better.”

Charles gives you a lopsided smile. “My own personal nurse. How did I get so lucky?”

You grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to him. “Here, put this on your hand to help with the swelling and pain.”

Charles sighs dramatically but does as instructed, holding the ice pack gingerly against his injured hand.

You glance at his wrapped hand, the knuckles already starting to bruise beneath the bandage. “Does it hurt terribly?”

Charles considers the question. “Honestly? Yes, it really does. Punching someone is not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

You laugh. “No kidding. That’s why you leave the punching to trained fighters, not Formula 1 drivers.”

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” Charles mutters. “What will the team say when they find out I injured myself in a fight? And I’ll never hear the end of it from Pierre.”

You pat his leg reassuringly. “Just say you hurt it working out. No one has to know about your misguided attempt at honorable combat,” you tease.

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Good idea. The last thing I need is for this to become paddock gossip.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Charles icing his hand while you snuggle contentedly against him.

"Thank you for patching me up and taking such good care of me,” Charles gently brushes the hair from your face with his uninjured hand. “Even when I do stupid things."

You grin. “It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Especially since you did almost break your hand for me.”

You settle back against Charles comfortably. He may be reckless and impulsive at times, but you know he always has the best intentions at heart. And you'll always be there to care for him if those good intentions backfire.

For better or worse, this protective man is the love of your life.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Hope is For You

Characters: Harry Bingham, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 428

Inspiration: Hopefulness is like a drug. It’s hard to escape the addiction of hoping.

Y/n's arrival in West Ham marked a turning point for its residents, especially for one Harry Bingham. The mysterious atmosphere that surrounded him seemed to dissipate in Y/n's presence, as if her laughter carried the antidote to the somber clouds that hung over the town.

One day, as Y/n explored the town square, she spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Undeterred by his enigmatic aura, she approached him with her trademark bright smile.

"Mind if I join you?" Y/n asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Harry looked up, surprised by the interruption. "Sure, have a seat."

As they began talking, Y/n's optimism clashed with Harry's stoicism, creating a unique dynamic that neither could resist. Amidst the peculiar events that had unfolded in West Ham, their banter and laughter became a refreshing break from the mysteries that shrouded the town.

Days turned into nights, and Y/n and Harry found themselves drawn to each other. Their shared adventures became a respite from the peculiarities of the society they lived in. They explored the town's hidden corners, discovering a sense of normalcy in the midst of the abnormal.

In the quiet moments, hope seemed to weave its threads around their hearts. Y/n, with her contagious enthusiasm, brought a lightness to Harry's world that he hadn't known was missing. He, in turn, offered her a sense of security amidst the uncertainties of West Ham.

One evening, under the soft glow of a streetlamp, Harry took Y/n's hand. The warmth of their entwined fingers sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. In that simple gesture, they acknowledged the unspoken truth – hope, like a drug, had become an addiction they were more than willing to embrace.

"Hopefulness is like a drug," Harry mused, his eyes locking onto Y/n’s. "It's hard to escape the addiction of hoping."

Y/n smiled, her gaze unwavering. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe hope is what we need to get through all of this."

As they strolled through the quiet streets, the shadows of the past seemed to fade away. The town, with its peculiarities, became a backdrop for their love story. In the soft glow of the moon, they embraced the hopefulness that had become their shared drug – a pocketful of hope that they carried with them into the uncertain future of West Ham. And in each other, they found a source of strength, a reason to face the mysteries that lay ahead with a newfound sense of optimism.